United States or Paraguay ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
If his knee still touched the floor at "ten," he was considered "down," and also "out." The instant his knee left the floor, he was considered "up," and in that instant it was Rivera's right to try and put him down again. Rivera took no chances. The moment that knee left the floor he would strike again.
Rivera's body bounced on the heads of the newspaper men below, and they boosted him back to the edge of the platform outside the ropes. Here he rested on one knee, while the referee raced off the seconds. Inside the ropes, through which he must duck to enter the ring, Danny waited for him. Nor did the referee intervene or thrust Danny back. The house was beside itself with delight.
Those who knew him or trafficked with him said that when it came to brass tacks he was Danny-on-the-Spot. He was invariably present at all business discussions, and it was urged by some that his manager was a blind whose only function was to serve as Danny's mouth-piece. Rivera's way was different.
In one place, speaking of Captain Rivera's going from Mission to Mission to take from them "whatever he might choose of what was in them for the founding of the new Missions," he says: "Thus he did; and altho it was with a somewhat heavy hand, it was undergone for God and the king." The work of Galvez for Alta California was by no means yet accomplished.
"You think for a second you can lick me?" Danny blurted in. Rivera nodded. "Oh, come; listen to reason," Kelly pleaded. "Think of the advertising." "I want the money," was Rivera's answer. "You couldn't win from me in a thousand years," Danny assured him. "Then what are you holdin' out for?" Rivera countered. "If the money's that easy, why don't you go after it?" "I will, so help me!"
Also, he fought as foully as a successful fighter knows how. Every trick and device he employed, butting in the clinches with the seeming of accident, pinioning Rivera's glove between arm and body, heeling his glove on Rivera's mouth to clog his breathing. Often, in the clinches, through his cut and smiling lips he snarled insults unspeakable and vile in Rivera's ear.
Danny'll lick you sure. He'll be as strong as a bull. You're a fool. You ain't got the chance of a dewdrop in hell." Rivera's answer was a calculated look of hatred. Even this Gringo he despised, and him had he found the whitest Gringo of them all. Barely noticed was Rivera as he entered the ring. Only a very slight and very scattering ripple of half-hearted hand-clapping greeted him.
All grace, and resilience, and power resided therein. He had proved it in scores of battles. His photographs were in all the physical culture magazines. A groan went up as Spider Hagerty peeled Rivera's sweater over his head. His body seemed leaner, because of the swarthiness of the skin. He had muscles, but they made no display like his opponent's.
As another and greater fighter had done before him, he might do a right and left, to solar plexus and across the jaw. He could do it, for he was noted for the strength of punch that remained in his arms as long as he could keep his feet. Rivera's seconds were not half-caring for him in the intervals between rounds. Their towels made a showing, but drove little air into his panting lungs.
Ten minutes had passed, and he still sat in his corner. There were no signs of Danny, who was evidently playing the trick to the limit. But more visions burned before the eye of Rivera's memory. The strike, or, rather, the lockout, because the workers of Rio Blanco had helped their striking brothers of Puebla.
Word Of The Day