The Studs Lonigan Trilogy - James T. Farrell [35]
Johnny O’Brien, thirteen and fattish, came around and watched. He didn’t yell who he was for, and asked Helen how the scrap had started.
“Oh, Weary got snotty and called me an’ Studs dirty names. If Studs can’t bust hell out of him, I’M GONNA... Come on, Studs! Bam him! Attaboy, Studs!”
Helen attaboyed Studs because he had just given Weary a good bust in the nose. Weary rushed back and made Studs’ left ear red from a wallop. Studs missed Weary with a wild haymaker, and almost fell over. Weary jolted him when he was off balance. Studs came back with a rush and caught Weary in the mouth. Weary busted Studs. Studs busted Weary.
A crowd had formed a circle around them, watching, blocking the sidewalks. Women, mothers, yelled unheeded from nearby windows for them to stop. Screwy McGlynn, the fat guy who drove a laundry wagon, and who bragged that he had put the blocks to nearly every K. M. in the neighborhood, climbed down from his wagon and watched the fight with a professional eye. He stood next to Johnny O’Brien, similarly professional, and said the little guy had guts. He rooted for the little guy. Danny O’Neill, twelve, small, curly-haired, four-eyed, joined the mob and yelled for Studs to bust hell out of the bully. Dick Buckford, from Danny’s gang, ciidit around and rooted for both of them to win. The mob around had a swell time, shifting, shouting, yelling; it was the fight they had been waiting for. Mrs. Dennis P. Gorman tripped along. She paused and made a vain attempt to tell someone that it was a nasty spectacle which should be stopped. She heard Helen yelling for Studs to slam the cur; she picked up her skirts, crossed the street and tripped on.
Screwy McGlynn chewed on his cigar, grew more professional, and said: “That little guy is sure game... Well, he’s one of them guys that believes in the old adage... the bigger they are, the harder they fall . And I always say that a good game little man can lick a good big man.”
“Yeah, they’re both good boys,” said Johnny O’Brien.
Studs fought a boring-in fight. He waved his left arm up and down horizontally, for purposes of defense, so he couldn’t do much punching with it, but he kept his right swinging. Weary met Studs and lammed away with both fists. It was anybody’s fight.
Studs cracked Weary with a dirty right. They clinched. Weary socked in the clinch.
“HEY! FIGHT FAIR!” young Danny O’Neill yelled.
“DON’T LET ‘IM GET AWAY WITH IT, STUDS,” yelled Helen.
Lucy Scanlan deserted the carpet sweeper and stood on her front steps watching, rooting for Studs. Helen Borax, on her way to the store, stopped to watch from Lucy’s porch. Helen said it was disgusting, and hinted that it would be a roughneck like Studs Lonigan to start such a fight. Lucy was too busy rooting for Studs to hear. She kept yelling:
“BUST HIM, STUDS!”
Helen watched with an aloof expression on her precociously disdainful face.
Weary again socked in a clinch.
“Fight fair,” said Studs, a little breathlessly.
“Up your brown!” sneered Weary.
They clinched. Studs swung low, and experienced animal pleasure when the foul punch connected. Weary tried to knee Studs, but it was only a glancing blow off Lonigan’s thigh. They clinched again, tumbled onto the grass, rough and tumbled, with first one and then the other on top, socking away. Dan Donoghue and lanky Red O’Connell dragged them apart, and they squared off. O’Connell yelled for Weary. Everybody else cheered Studs. They rushed each other, swinging, fighting dirty, cursing, scratching. Studs connected with Weary’s beak, and Reilley got a bloody nose. He asked Weary if he was licked yet; and Weary thumbed his nose at Studs. Weary socked Studs, giving him a shiner. Studs smashed Weary with rights on three successive rushes. Studs seemed to be winning, although he lumbered tiredly. Weary was bleeding, breathing almost in pants, and his shirt was torn; his shoulder was scratched; and there were scratches on Studs’ arm. They fought, and Studs kept connecting with Weary’s mush, hitting twice for every one he took.
Diamond-Tooth, tough, red-faced, big-mouthed, hairy-handed, looking as much ape as man, came around; he separated them with his crane-like paws.