Part 30 (1/2)

Lounging in a chair, with his feet on the table beside an empty beer bottle and dirty gla.s.s, was a ruffianly-looking chap, who had a thick neck that ran straight up with the back of his head. His hair was close cropped and his forehead low. There was a bulldog look about his mouth and jaw, and his forehead was strangely narrow.

The man was smoking a black, foul-smelling pipe, while the hands which held a pink-tinted ill.u.s.trated paper were enormous, with huge knuckles and joints. His hand when closed looked formidable enough to knock down an ox.

”How do you do, professor?” saluted Bruce.

”Waryer,” growled the man, still keeping his feet on the table. ”So it's you, is it? Dis ain't your day.”

”I know it, but I decided to come around just the same. I am not getting the flesh off as fast as I ought.”

”Hey?” roared the man, letting his feet fall with a crash. ”Wot's dat?

D'yer men ter say I ain't doin' a good job wid yer? Wot der blazes!”

”Oh, you are doing all right, professor, but I find I must be in condition sooner than I thought. My gymnasium exercise doesn't seem to--”

”Dat gymnasium work is no good--see? I knows wot I'm givin' yer, too. I told yer in der first place ter stick ter me, an' I'd put yer in shape.

It'll cost more, but--”

”I don't mind that. No matter what it costs, I must be in condition to lick that fellow I was telling you about, and I must be in condition one week from to-day.”

”Dat's business. I'll put yer dere. An' yer know wot I told yer--I'll show yer a trick dat'll finish him dead sure ef de mug is gittin' de best of yer. It'll cost yer twenty-five extra ter learn dat trick, but it never fails.”

Browning showed sudden interest.

”I had forgotten about that,” he said. ”What will it do?”

”It'll do der bloke what ye're after, dat's wot.”

”Yes, but how--how?”

”T'ink I'm goin' ter give der hull t'ing erway? Well, I should say nit!

I tells yer it'll fix him, and it'll fix him so dere won't be no more fight in him. It'll paralyze him der first t'ing, an' he won't be no better dan a stiff.”

”How bad will it hurt him?”

The man paused a moment and then added:

”Well, I don't mind sayin' dat it'll break his wrist. Yer can do it de first crack arter I shows yer how, but it'll cost twenty-five plunks ter learn der trick.”

After a few moments of hesitation Browning drew forth his pocketbook and counted out twenty-five dollars.

CHAPTER XVI.

TO BREAK AN ENEMY'S WRIST.

Buster Kelley was a character. Professor Kelley he called himself. He claimed to be a great pugilist, and he was forever telling of the men he had put to sleep. But he couldn't produce the papers to show for it. The public had to take his word, if they took anything.

In fact, he had never fought a battle in his life, unless it was with a boy half his size. He made a bluff, and it went. The youngsters who came to Yale and desired to be instructed in the manly art were always recommended to Kelley.