The Crimson Flash Part 3

This appeared to infuriate his antagonist. Perhaps it served to bring back memories of another battle in which he had been worsted. His rage did him neither service nor credit. Time and again he bounded at the elusive Johnny, to find himself fanning air. Time and again Johnny tapped that ragged ear. The conman landed not a single blow. When, after three minutes, a man called time, and the two paused to take a breath, the plaudits were all for Johnny.

As he rested, the beady eyes of the conman narrowed to slits. He was thinking, planning. He had not scored on the first bout, the second would see him a winner.

Instantly upon re-entering the ring he rushed Johnny for a clinch. Taken by surprise, the boy could not avoid it. Yet, even here, he was more than a match for his heavier opponent. Gripping hard with his left, he rained blows on the other's back, just above the kidney. That, in time, made a break welcome.

The conman's game was to clinch, then to force his opponent back to a position where he could land his right on Johnny's chin. This would win his point. More than that, it would enable him to break Johnny's neck, if he chose, and he might so decide.

Three times he clinched. Three times he received trip-hammer blows on his back, and three times he gave way before his plucky opponent. When, at last, time was called, he fairly reeled to his corner.

There was a dangerous light in his eye as he stepped up for the third round.

"Watch him, kid. He'll do you dirt," muttered the Irishman.

"Keep your guard," echoed another.

Johnny, still smiling, moved forward. His face was well guarded. He was confident of victory.

Twice the conman feinted with his right, struck out with his left, then retired. The third time he rushed straight on. Johnny easily dodged his blows, but the next second doubled up in a knot. Groaning and panting for breath he fell to the earth.

Eagerly the conman leaped forward. His glove had barely touched Johnny's cheek when a grip of iron pulled him back.

"There's no referee. Then I'm one. An Irishman for a square sc.r.a.p." It was Johnny's ardent backer.

Panting, the conman stood at bay.

In time, Johnny, having regained his breath, sat up dizzily and looked about.

"Where's the five?" demanded the conman.

Johnny held up his right glove. "I leave it to the crowd if he gets it fair."

"He fouled you wid his knee! He jammed it into yer stummick! A rotten trick as ever was played!" yelled the Irishman.

"Right-O! Sure! Sure! Kill him! Eat him alive!" came from every corner.

Johnny rose.

"We'll finish the round," he said quietly.

"Keep your money," grumbled the conman.

"No! No! No!" came from a hundred throats, for by this time a dense mob was packed about the improvised ring. Chairs, benches and barrels had been dragged up. On these men stood looking over the shoulders of those in front.

Like an enraged bull the conman stood at bay.

"All right," he laughed savagely. "We'll finish it quick."

He leaped squarely at Johnny. Johnny's whole body seemed to stiffen, then to rise. Springing full ten inches from the ground and ten inches forward, he shot out his glove. There came the thudding impact of a master-blow.

The conman rose slightly in the air, then reeled backward into the mob.

The point of his chin had come in contact with Johnny's fist.

With characteristic speed, Johnny threw off the gloves, seized his coat and lost himself in the crowd.

He was not ashamed of his part in the affair, far from that. He knew he had given the crook only that which he richly deserved. He was not, however, at that moment looking for publicity, and escape was the only way to avoid it.

In eluding the crowd he was singularly successful. By dodging about the horse tent, and rounding the mess tent, he was able to make his way directly to the sh.o.r.e of the lake. Here he walked rapidly south until he found himself alone. Throwing himself upon the ground, for ten minutes he watched the small breakers coil and recoil upon the sh.o.r.e. Rising, he lifted his laughing blue eyes to the sunshine. Then, scooping up hands-full of the clear lake water, he bathed his face, his chest, his arms.

"Boy! Boy!" he breathed, as he beat his chest dry. "It's sure good to be alive!"

A moment later his face clouded. "But how about that diamond ring? Oh, you sparkler, come to your daddy!"

With this, he repaired to the show site.

On returning to the rear of the circus tents, he was surprised to be accosted at once by a smooth-shaven, st.u.r.dy man with a clean, clear look in his eye.

"You're the boy that's so handy with his mitts?"

Johnny had a mind to run for it, but one look into those clear eyes told him this would be folly.

"That's what they say," he smiled.

"Shake! I like you for that." The stranger extended his hand.

Johnny gripped it warmly.

"The way you handled that conman wasn't bad; not half-bad. You're a sport; a regular one! The circus boys like a good sport; the real chaps do. How'd you like a job?"

"A--a job?" Johnny stammered. "What kind?"

"Circus job."

"What kind?" Johnny repeated.

"What can you do?"

"I--I--" suddenly Johnny had an inspiration. "Why, I'm the best little groom there is in three states. I could shine up those fat bareback horses of yours till you'd take them for real plate gla.s.s."

"Could you? I believe you could, and you're going to have a chance.

Millie Gonzales' three mounts have been neglected of late."

Millie Gonzales! Johnny caught his breath. He had gone fishing and caught a whale the first cast. Millie Gonzales was one of the three circus girls at whose feet the diamond ring had dropped. Perhaps she was the one who had picked it up; who held it among her possessions now. He would know.

"When can I go to work?" he asked unsteadily.

"Right now. I'll take you over to the stables. Stable boss'll give you a suit and some unionalls. You shape up the three and have 'em ready for Millie by two o'clock, in time for the grand parade."

"Of all the luck!" Johnny whispered into the ear of a sleek, broad backed gray a half hour later. "To think that I should have fallen into this at the very start! Perhaps Millie has it. Perhaps she's wearing it on one of those tapering fingers of hers at this very moment. Is she, old boy? Is she?"