when god laughs and other stories(当上帝发笑时)-第39节
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Tom King was an old un； but a better old un than he had ever encountered…
…an old un who never lost his head； who was remarkably able at defence；
whose blows had the impact of a knotted club； and who had a knockout in
either hand。 Nevertheless； Tom King dared not hit often。 He never
forgot his battered knuckles； and knew that every hit must count if the
knuckles were to last out the fight。 As he sat in his corner； glancing
across at his opponent； the thought came to him that the sum of his
wisdom and Sandel's youth would constitute a world's champion
heavyweight。 But that was the trouble。 Sandel would never become a
world champion。 He lacked the wisdom； and the only way for him to get
it was to buy it with Youth； and when wisdom was his； Youth would have
been spent in buying it。
King took every advantage he knew。 He never missed an opportunity
to clinch； and in effecting most of the clinches his shoulder drove stiffly
into the other's ribs。 In the philosophy of the ring a shoulder was as good
as a punch so far as damage was concerned； and a great deal better so far
as concerned expenditure of effort。 Also； in the clinches King rested his
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weight on his opponent； and was loath to let go。 This compelled the
interference of the referee； who tore them apart； always assisted by Sandel；
who had not yet learned to rest。 He could not refrain from using those
glorious flying arms and writhing muscles of his； and when the other
rushed into a clinch； striking shoulder against ribs； and with head resting
under Sandel's left arm； Sandel almost invariably swung his right behind
his own back and into the projecting face。 It was a clever stroke； much
admired by the audience； but it was not dangerous； and was； therefore； just
that much wasted strength。 But Sandel was tireless and unaware of
limitations； and King grinned and doggedly endured。
Sandel developed a fierce right to the body； which made it appear that
King was taking an enormous amount of punishment； and it was only the
old ringsters who appreciated the deft touch of King's left glove to the
other's biceps just before the impact of the blow。 It was true； the blow
landed each time； but each time it was robbed of its power by that touch
on the biceps。 In the ninth round； three times inside a minute； King's
right hooked its twisted arch to the jaw； and three times Sandel's body；
heavy as it was； was levelled to the mat。 Each time he took the nine
seconds allowed him and rose to his feet； shaken and jarred； but still
strong。 He had lost much of his speed； and he wasted less effort。 He
was fighting grimly； but he continued to draw upon his chief asset； which
was Youth。 King's chief asset was experience。 As his vitality had
dimmed and his vigour abated； he had replaced them with cunning； with
wisdom born of the long fights and with a careful shepherding of strength。
Not alone had he learned never to make a superfluous movement； but he
had learned how to seduce an opponent into throwing his strength away。
Again and again； by feint of foot and hand and body he continued to
inveigle Sandel into leaping back； ducking； or countering。 King rested；
but he never permitted Sandel to rest。 It was the strategy of Age。
Early in the tenth round King began stopping the other's rushes with
straight lefts to the face； and Sandel； grown wary； responded by drawing
the left； then by ducking it and delivering his right in a swinging hook to
the side of the head。 It was too high up to be vitally effective； but when
first it landed； King knew the old； familiar descent of the black veil of
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WHEN GOD LAUGHS； AND OTHER STORIES
unconsciousness across his mind。 For the instant； or for the slighest
fraction of an instant； rather； he ceased。 In the one moment he saw his
opponent ducking out of his field of vision and the background of white；
watching faces； in the next moment he again saw his opponent and the
background of faces。 It was as if he had slept for a time and just opened
his eyes again； and yet the interval of unconsciousness was so
microscopically short that there had been no time for him to fall。 The
audience saw him totter and his knees give； and then saw him recover and
tuck his chin deeper into the shelter of his left shoulder。
Several times Sandel repeated the blow； keeping King partially dazed；
and then the latter worked out his defence； which was also a counter。
Feinting with his left he took a half…step backward； at the same time upper
cutting with the whole strength of his right。 So accurately was it timed
that it landed squarely on Sandel's face in the full； downward sweep of the
duck； and Sandel lifted in the air and curled backward； striking the mat on
his head and shoulders。 Twice King achieved this； then turned loose and
hammered his opponent to the ropes。 He gave Sandel no chance to rest
or to set himself； but smashed blow in upon blow till the house rose to its
feet and the air was filled with an unbroken roar of applause。 But
Sandel's strength and endurance were superb； and he continued to stay on
his feet。 A knock…out seemed certain； and a captain of police； appalled at
the dreadful punishment； arose by the ringside to stop the fight。 The
gong struck for the end of the round and Sandel staggered to his corner；
protesting to the captain that he was sound and strong。 To prove it； he
threw two back…air…springs； and the police captain gave in。
Tom King； leaning back in his corner and breathing hard； was
disappointed。 If the fight had been stopped； the referee； perforce； would
have rendered him the decision and the purse would have been his。
Unlike Sandel； he was not fighting for glory or career； but for thirty quid。
And now Sandel would recuperate in the minute of rest。
Youth will be servedthis saying flashed into King's mind； and he
remembered the first time he had heard it； the night when he had put away
Stowsher Bill。 The toff who had bought him a drink after the fight and
patted him on the shoulder had used those words。 Youth will be served！
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The toff was right。 And on that night in the long ago he had been Youth。
To…night Youth sat in the opposite corner。 As for himself； he had been
fighting for half an hour now； and he was an old man。 Had he fought like
Sandel； he would not have lasted fifteen minutes。 But the point was that
he did not recuperate。 Those upstanding arteries and that sorely tried
heart would not enable him to gather strength in the intervals between the
rounds。 And he had not had sufficient strength in him to begin with。
His legs were heavy under him and beginning to cramp。 He should not
have walked those two miles to the fight。 And there was the steak which
he had got up longing for that morning。 A great and terrible hatred rose
up in him for the butchers who had refused him credit。 It was hard for an
old man to go into a fight without enough to eat。 And a piece of steak
was such a little thing； a few pennies at best； yet it meant thirty quid to
him。
With the gong that opened the eleventh round； Sandel rushed； making
a show of freshness which he did not really possess。 King knew it for
what it wasa bluff as old as the game itself。 He clinched to save
himself； then； going free； allowed Sandel to get set。 This was what King
desired。 He feinted with his left； drew the answering duck and swinging
upward hook； then made the half…step backwar
