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Updated: September 4, 2025
"'Course that wasn't his real name. He was a sportin' gent, an' that was his sportin' name. He was one o' them all-round fellers. Run! Say, he c'd make a jack-rabbit look like a fly in a tub o' butter. He c'd jump higher'n this here roof, an' vault twic't as high. An' them big shots an' weights that they put I'd hate t' tell you how far he c'd put 'em. You wouldn't b'lieve me."
And then: "Anybody in this crowd got a map?" Nobody had, as it seemed; whereupon the bellower turned upon us. "You fellers 've got one, it stands to reason. If you've got any sportin' blood in you at all, you'll be sort o' half-way human and give us a squint at it." Again Gifford took the words out of my mouth. "Not to-day," he refused coolly.
"Luk at me in me ould age, dhressed out like a Frinch sportin' maid. If there was a baby in the house ye'd see me, Father Phil, galivantin' behind a baby-carriage up an' down the Square. Faith, she does it well, the climbin', if we don't get dizzy whin we're halfway up, an' come to earth afore all the neighbors, flatter nor pancakes."
But Tim Garvey is no quitter; at least, I've never had that name. And I've made up my mind to stay with this proposition until I'm dead sure I'm licked." "That's the sportin' spirit," says I. "What I want is a line on how to get in right," says he. At which I scratches my head and stalls around. "For instance," he goes on, "what is it these fine Harbor Hills folks do that I can't learn?
Danny cried with abrupt conviction. "I'll beat you to death in the ring, my boy you monkeyin' with me this way. Make out the articles, Kelly. Winner take all. Play it up in the sportin' columns. Tell 'em it's a grudge fight. I'll show this fresh kid a few." Kelly's secretary had begun to write, when Danny interrupted. "Hold on!" He turned to Rivera. "Weights?" "Ringside," came the answer.
You know what that lawyer man said about him. Nigh as I could make out from that, he thought he was a kind of high-toned loafer, sportin' round on his aunt's money. Why does that kind of a fellow come to live along with us? WE ain't sports." "Will you EVER remember not to say 'ain't'? He came here because he isn't that kind of a fellow at all. He explained about that.
Well, young man, what is your excuse this time?" I grins sheepish and shuffles my feet. "Same old excuse," says I. "Do you mean to tell me," she gasps, "that you have the impudence to try to see my niece, after all I have " "Uh-huh," I breaks in. "Don't you ever take a sportin' chance yourself?"
The men had ceased laughing. If it had not been for that unfortunate stumble . . . "You're sportin' a right good rig," said the foreman. "I aim to," said Pete quickly. "If I hadn't gone broke buyin' it, I'd ride up here on a real hoss." "Things are pretty slack right now," said Bailey. "Glad to see you but they won't be nothin' doin' till fall. Won't you set down? We're goin' to eat right soon."
Did I? Say, when I got through showin' that bunch of far West artillery husks how to put in a real pleasant evening along Broadway there wasn't enough change left to buy a sportin' extra.
The big doors were rolled back, and "Imogene," the ancient elephant whose fond attachment to Hiram had preserved her from the auction-block, bent her wrinkled front to the soothing sunshine and "weaved" contentedly on her slouchy legs. She was watching her master with the thorough appreciation of one who has understood and loved the "sportin' life."
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