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80 ABBOTT'S MONTHLY that he was being counted out while seated bolt upright on the ring floor! Burning with shame, he scrambled to his feet at nine, and diving into a clinch, held on for dear life. Jimmy whispered into his ear: "I'm going to let you last a few rounds to give the folks a run for their money!" Tanner scarcely hear him. The referee pried them apart. Jimmy began spraying Tanner with gloves; light sharp blows that stung and humiliated, but did not disable. Then, just before the bell, Tanner, flailing aimlessly, landed a wild left squarely on Jimmy's mouth! The crown roared in amusement. Jimmy, livid with the rage of wounded vanity, tensed his muscles for a savage attack. But the bell clanged, ending the round. As Jimmy walked to his corner, a thin trickle of blood ran down his chin. During the minute rest he glared angrily across the ring at Tanner, and, at the bell, stalked from his corner grim with purpose. Swiftly, bewilderingly, he circled Tanner, talking to him in a low voice that did not carry beyond the rope: "Aha," he growled, "tried to slip over a knockout on me, eh? After me telling you I was going easy! Tried to show me up, eh? Just for that I'm going to beat you to jelly before I knock you out-you yellow punk!" And from between clenched teeth he spat squarely into Tanner's face! An instant fiery rage leaped through Tanner, blotting out his clumsy boxing skill, and making his actions instantly natural and instinctive. With amazing speed, he stepped into the arc of Jimmy's dizzy circle, looping over a monstrous right-hand swing. Jimmy, surprised by the sudden cat-like speed of the move, tried to spring backward and sideward. But his position was awkward, which made him a trifle slow. The mighty blow, exploding on his head, hurled him full length to the canvas, stunned! The furious lightning-quick deed left the vast crowd as stunned as the stricken boxer. Slowly they rose to their feet, as one man-a most strange occurrence, for usually a knockdown is the signal for pandemonium. But Jimmy was a popular lad, and none seemed to find joy in the sudden thing that had happened to him. In silence, the dismal count began. One-two-three- a quiver ran through Jimmy's prostrate form-four- he stirred sluggishly-five- a woman's shrill hysterical scream curved through the muffled darkness like a scimitar of woe! It was Jimmy O'Grady's Gal. High on her chair she stood, wild-eyed and haggard. "Kill 'im, Jimmy!" she screeched. "For Gawd's sake get up and kill im!" Her grey-green eyes were mad with fury; rage twisted every line of her dead-white face. "I want my rin-n-n-g," she blubbered. "Jim-m-e-e-e get up and smash that-that-fool- He can't cheat me like that- Get him, Jimmy!" Up in the ring, Tanner's jaw sagged in amazement as he heard that scream and looked into the flaming rage-wild eyes of a woman. The venomous hatred in them seemed to paralyze him. Hands at side, he stared fascinated, as even more vile and putrid oaths spewed from the woman's throat. -at seven Jimmy O'Grady sat up; at eight he rose to one knee, and took in the whole situation as his head cleared; at nine he reached his feet. Bracing himself, he glided toward his unsuspecting opponent. Tanner, his back turned, was staring stupidly at the girl. Suddenly he realized that men were shouting, and looking at something behind him. He turned quickly-and received, full upon his unprotected jaw, a crushing deliberate blow from Jimmy O'Grady's gloved right fist! Down, down, down, he plunged, into world-engulfing nothingness. Sometime later Tanner and the physician were in the dressing room. "How do you feel now, son?" as the doctor relieved as Tanner opened his eyes and stared about in comic bewilderment. In a moment everything came back to Tanner; the bout; the victory within his grasp; the screaming wild-eyed blonde. He sprang to his feet, bitter-faced, and hurriedly dressed. Downstairs in the office, the matchmaker stopped him: "Tough luck, son," he sympathized. "You had a fortune in your hands tonight, and let that crazy jane screech it right out of your fingers. You'll never make a fighter, son. Too excitable." Tanner seemed scarcely to hear. He seemed almost in a trance. "It must 'a' been the surprise 'a' seeing her like-like-that," he murmured, almost to himself. "She used to have black hair and such good manners." The matchmaker looked his surprise. "Say, you don't mean to say you know that dopey wench?" he asked, incredulously. Tanner's face twisted, and he spat disgustedly. "Know her," he repeated bitterly, Know her! Hell! I guess I ought to-she's my half sister. And say," he added reflectively, "I'd rather you don't call her a wench, neither." The Holy Dove (Continued from page 48) deacons put their heads together and nodded approval. Again the congregation began a "spiritual" with that haunting eccentric tempo of a whining trade breeze, or the tones of an Aeolian harp. As their voices reached those cadences of wailing ghostly echoes from a tomb, Bill began to shout and call to the sinners and backsliders: "Come fo'th brethas and sistahs, prupah yo'h souls. Oh, come up to the mounah's bench and git on de gospel train befoh de Holy Dove gits heah." We were, of course, wrought up to the highest degree of excitement, and as everyone was waiting for a manifestation of the mystic spectacle, Bill stretched forth his large scrawny hands and clapped as called for the Holy Dove-once he clapped louder and called for the Holy Dove-twice-as he was about to clap for a third time, a pop-eyed boy burst through the crowed yelling: "Hey, pah'son, dat damn pigeon got away." The meeting quickly broke up in a tumult, so I hot-footed back home. The next day I asked one of the section camp boys what had become of the visiting preacher. "Podnah," he explained, "Dat scoundal squalled out dat he sho'h nuf spied ole Badeye's ghos' and whilest evah'body else was leapin' an' scramblin' 'roun' he tried to git away wid de collection box; but de head deacon dry-cleaned him with a tailah-made brick, someone else shot at him wid a britch lowdah and de las' time I seed him, he was in de middle of de road burnin' de wind." Now you tell one. for January, 1931 81 Where the Sun Never Shines (Continued from page 62) far down to climb back up the smooth sides. It was the only other precarious position I was in since first being lost as a lunch boy. The two friends with me, ladies, had to find their way back for help and a rope without the aid of a guide. That was double hazard; they may have been lost, and I left trapped in a hitherto unexplored region. Afterwards, when I explored I furnished myself with ropes. In 1908, Max Kaemper of Berlin, Germany, surveying exclusively for the cave-owners, forced an opening from the main cave into that remarkable region named Violet City after Mrs. Violet Blair Janin, who owned a third of the Mammoth Cave estate. In this county of remarkable caves are found other caves of decided beauty, yet not as large and varied as Mammoth Cave. There is a the Mammoth-Onyx Cave, which is a continuous passage-way of Onyx formation. Great Crystal Cave discovered by Floyd Collins is four miles north of Mammoth Cave and now has the body of Floyd Collins in it. Horse Cave, which has an entrance 60 feet below the surface of the street, has an immense electric lighted dome. I was told by the surveyor, who taught Floyd Collins what he knew of caves, that if I would dig down by a certain stake in my apple orchard, I would find an entrance into Sand Cave. This I never have done although I may attempt it one of these days when I have retired from actual service as a guide. Forty Seconds (Continued from page 52) pected her to split in two. When night came down were pounding into it like a battering ram. As the rain let up it seemed to blow harder than ever, and the sea became rougher. Wise in my generation, I took a nap before dinner. I went to dine rather late, just in time to find Remus finishing. I happened to see his face as I went up to my chair, before he saw me, for his eyes were fixed on the slim girly with the strong shoulders who was dining merrily, in spite of the weather, with a couple of other seasoned travelers. "Remus, I wouldn't have your job for anything, till midnight," I said, as I sat down beside him. There were few passengers in the saloon. "Yes, Doc, it's sure a beastly night," he replied. "And the Captain's put her up to full speed again. Just my luck." "When do we sight Bishop's Light?" "Some were 'round eleven, I guess. Depends on the weather. Well, I've got to go and pile on clothes; so long!" He leaned back and felt for his pipe as he prepared to get up, and his eyes wandered over to the Compton girl again, and fixed there intently. Following, I glanced over and found her regarding him fixedly. Her look was peculiar. I don't know exactly what, but peculiar. Mainly disdainful. As for Remus, the poor devil, his innermost soul was on his face. He struggled with himself and the battle was for both of us to see. He wanted her and struggled not to admit it. I found myself wondering what he'd do. As if in answer to my question, his jaw tightened. Hell! - but he was a handsome lad! His face stiffened into hard lines and he stood up with an abrupt jerk of his chair and strode out of the saloon without glancing at her. With the faintest of smiles she turned to listen to one of her friends. Again I rejoiced at the fact that we would dock in the morning. I dropped into the surgery a minute after dinner and found Beider treating Weirr, the First. Weirr's face was a mass of little tiny cuts and scratches, and the wind had laid open even his tough hide. He swore violently with every dabble of the cuts. "Why the hell did I ever come aboard this g—damned ship, carrying a lot of fat men and undressed ladies for their 'rest,'" he cursed violently. "Here, I've been at sea for over twenty-five years, and never had it lay my face open till I mistook a G-d damned express train for a ship!" I left him still swearing. Poor devil, he was all in. He'd take a watch every day for another twenty-five years and God help anyone who suggested it was too rough for him. I knew type pretty well. I tucked myself away in my arm-chair with a fresh tin of my favorite tobacco and read for close onto three hours. I was starting to turn in when my mind drifted back to that damned girl and the way she'd spoilt the run for me, for she had. 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Just send name and address. [[Image]] Send for it Now No obligation JUEL DENN, 1434 N. Wells St., Dept. 648, Chicago about her for some time, and my thoughts naturally drifted on to Remus. I thought of him on the bridge above me. Goodness knows why, but I found myself reaching for my heavy coat. I never afterwards was able to remember why I left my comfortable cabin to be buffeted by the terrific storm raging outside. I went through the empty grand saloon; it was seven bells, half-past eleven, and everybody was below. She was still rolling like the very devil. I made my way forward into the deck officer's quarters, which are immediately below the bridge. All was deadly quiet here, except for a steward making time in his pantry. There was a glow of light through the Captain's hooked door, showing he was awake and alert, and probably would be till morning. I climbed on through the lower wheelhouse and up in the companionway to the main wheelhouse on the upper bridge. As I went up I began to hear the intense scream of the wind, and an icy chill of air swept down on me. The scene in the wheelhouse was weird, even to me. We were just entering the Channel, at full speed, and
