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肩書を与える: The Bull-Dog 産む／飼育する (You Got to Kill a Bull-dog) Author: Robert E. Howard * A 事業／計画（する） Gutenberg of Australia eBook * eBook No.: 0609151h.html Language: English Date first 地位，任命するd: Dec 2006 Most 最近の update: Jul 2018 This eBook was produced by Richard Scott and updated by Roy Glashan. 事業／計画（する） Gutenberg of Australia eBooks are created from printed 版s which are in the public domain in Australia, unless a copyright notice is 含むd. We do NOT keep any eBooks in 同意／服従 with a particular paper 版. Copyright 法律s are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the copyright 法律s for your country before downloading or redistributing this とじ込み／提出する. This eBook is made 利用できる at no cost and with almost no 制限s どれでも. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the 条件 of the 事業／計画（する） Gutenberg of Australia License which may be 見解（をとる）d online at http://gutenberg.逮捕する.au/licence.html To 接触する 事業／計画（する） Gutenberg of Australia go to http://gutenberg.逮捕する.au
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"AND SO," 結論するd the Old Man, "this big いじめ（る） ducked the seltzer 瓶／封じ込める and the next thing I knowed I knowed nothin'. I come to with the general idee that the Sea Girl was sinkin' with all 手渡すs and I was drownin'—but it was only some chump pourin' water all over me to bring me to. Oh, yeah, the big French cluck I had the 列／漕ぐ／騒動 with was nobody much, I learned—just only 単に nobody but Tiger Valois, the heavyweight 支持する／優勝者 of the French 海軍—"
Me and the 乗組員 winked at each other. Until the captain decided to unburden to Penrhyn, the first mate, in our 審理，公聴会, we'd wondered about the 黒人／ボイコット 注目する，もくろむ he'd sported に引き続いて his night 岸に in Manila. He'd been in an unusual bad temper ever since, which means he'd been 事実上の／代理 like a sore-tailed hyena. The Old Man was a Welshman, and he hated a Frenchman like he hated a snake. He now turned on me.
"If you was any part of a man, you big mick ham," he said 激しく, "you wouldn't stand around and let a blankety-blank French so-on and so-前へ／外へ layout your captain. Oh, yeah, I know you wasn't there, then, but if you'll fight him—"
"Aragh!" I said with sarcasm, "leavin' out the fact that I'd stand a 広大な／多数の／重要な chance of gettin' matched with Valois—why not 選ぶ me somethin' 平易な, like Dempsey? Do you realize you're askin' me, a ordinary ham-an'-egger, to climb the 初めの and only Tiger Valois that's whipped everything in European and the Asian waters and looks like a sure bet for the world's 肩書を与える?"
"Gerahh!" snarled the Old Man. "Me that's 誇るd in every port of the Seven Seas that I shipped the toughest 乗組員 since the days of Harry Morgan—" He turned his 支援する in disgust and すぐに fell over my white bulldog, マイク, who was taking a snooze by the hatch. The Old Man give a howl as he come up and booted the innocent pup most 厳しい. マイク 即時に 大（公）使館員d hisself to the Old Man's 脚, from which I at last 後継するd in 調査するing him with a loss of some meat and the pants 脚.
The captain danced hither and あそこの about the deck on one foot while he 表明するd his feelings at some length and the 乗組員 stopped work to listen and admire.
"And get me 権利, Steve Costigan," he 負傷させる up, "the Sea Girl is too small for me and that 二塁打-dash dog. He goes 岸に at the next port. Do you hear me?"
"Then I go 岸に with him," I answered with dignity. "It was not マイク what 原因（となる）d you to get a 黒人／ボイコット 注目する，もくろむ, and if you had not been so taken up in abusin' me you would not have fell over him.
"マイク is a Dublin gentleman, and no Welsh water ネズミ can boot him and get away with it. If you want to banish your best A.B. 水夫, it's up to you. Till we make port you keep your boots off of マイク, or I will 本人自身で kick you loose from your spine. If that's 反乱（を起こす）, make the most of it— and, Mister First Mate, I see you easin' toward that belayin' pin on the rail, and I call to your mind what I done to the last man that 攻撃する，衝突する me with a belayin' pin."
There was a coolness between me and the Old Man thereafter. The old nut was pretty rough and rugged, but good at heart, and likely he was ashamed of himself, but he was too stubborn to 収容する／認める it, besides still 存在 sore at me and マイク. 井戸／弁護士席, he paid me off without a word at Hong Kong, and I went 負かす／撃墜する the gangplank with マイク at my heels, feeling 肉親，親類d of queer and empty, though I wouldn't show it for nothing, and 行為／法令／行動するd like I was glad to get off the old tub. But since I growed up, the Sea Girl's been the only home I knowed, and though I've left her from time to time to prowl around loose or to make a fight 小旅行する, I've always come 支援する to her.
Now I knowed I couldn't come 支援する, and it 攻撃する，衝突する me hard. The Sea Girl is the only thing I'm 支持する／優勝者 of, and as I went 岸に I heard the sound of Mushy Hansen and 法案 O'Brien trying to decide which should 後継する to my place of 栄誉（を受ける）.
井戸／弁護士席, maybe some will say I should of sent マイク 岸に and stayed on, but to my mind, a man that won't stand by his dog is lower 負かす／撃墜する than one which won't stand by his fellow man.
Some years ago I'd 選ぶd マイク up wandering around the wharfs of Dublin and fighting everything he met on four 脚s and not averse to 取り組むing two-legged critters. I 指名するd him マイク after a brother of 地雷, アイロンをかける マイク Costigan, rather 井戸／弁護士席 known in them higher fight circles where I've never gotten to.
井戸／弁護士席, I wandered around the dives and presently fell in with Tom Roche, a lean, fighting engineer that I once knocked out in Liverpool. We meandered around, drinking here and there, though not very much, and presently 設立する ourselves in a 捨てる a little different from the general run. A French 共同の, kinda more highbrow, if you get me. A lot of swell-looking fellows was in there drinking, and the bartenders and waiters, all French, scowled at マイク, but said nothing. I was unburdening my woes to Tom, when I noticed a tall, elegant young man with a dress 控訴, 茎 and gloves stroll by our （米）棚上げする／（英）提議する. He seemed 井戸／弁護士席 known in the 捨てる, because birds all around was jumping up from their （米）棚上げする／（英）提議するs and waving their glasses and yelling at him in French. He smiled 支援する in a superior manner and 繁栄するd his 茎 in a way which irritated me. This galoot rubbed me the wrong way 権利 from the start, see?
井戸／弁護士席, マイク was snoozing の近くに to my 議長，司会を務める as usual, and, like any other 闘士，戦闘機, マイク was never very particular where he chose to snooze. This big bimbo could have stepped over him or around him, but he stopped and prodded マイク with his 茎. マイク opened one 注目する，もくろむ, looked up and 解除するd his lip in a polite manner, just like he was sayin': "We don't want no trouble; go 'long and leave me alone."
Then this French dipthong drawed 支援する his 特許 leather shoe and kicked マイク hard in the ribs. I was out of my 議長，司会を務める in a second, seeing red, but マイク was quicker. He 発射 up off the 床に打ち倒す, not for the Frenchman's 脚, but for his throat. But the Frenchman, quick as a flash, 衝突，墜落d his 激しい 茎 負かす／撃墜する across マイク's 長，率いる, and the bulldog 攻撃する，衝突する the 床に打ち倒す and laid still. The next minute the Frenchman 攻撃する，衝突する the 床に打ち倒す, and believe me he laid still! My 権利-hander to the jaw put him 負かす／撃墜する, and the 割れ目 his 長，率いる got against the corner of the 妨げる／法廷，弁護士業 kept him there.
I bent over マイク, but he was already coming around, in spite of the fact that a 負担d 茎 had been broken over his 長，率いる. It took a blow like that to put マイク out, even for a few seconds. The instant he got his bearings, his 注目する，もくろむs went red and he started out to find what 攻撃する，衝突する him and 涙／ほころび it up. I grabbed him, and for a minute it was all I could do to 持つ／拘留する him. Then the red faded out of his 注目する，もくろむs and he wagged his stump of a tail and licked my nose. But I knowed the first good chance he had at the Frenchman he'd 引き裂く out his throat or die trying. The only way you can lick a bulldog is to kill him.
存在 taken up with マイク I hadn't had much time to notice what was going on. But a ギャング（団） of French sailors had tried to 急ぐ me and had stopped at the sight of a gun in Tom Roche's 手渡す. A real fighting man was Tom, and a bad egg to fool with.
By this time the Frenchman had woke up; he was standing with a handkerchief at his mouth, which latter was trickling 血, and honest to Jupiter I never saw such a pair of 注目する，もくろむs on a human! His 直面する was dead white, and those 黒人／ボイコット, 燃やすing 注目する，もくろむs 炎d out at me—say, fellows!— they carried more than hate and a 願望（する） to muss me up! They was mutilation and sudden death! Once I seen a famous duelist in Heidelberg who'd killed ten men in sword fights—he had just such 注目する，もくろむs as this fellow.
A ギャング（団） of Frenchies was around him all whooping and yelling and jabbering at once, and I couldn't understand a word 非，不，無 of them said. Now one come prancing up to Tom Roche and shook his 握りこぶし in Tom's 直面する and pointed at me and yelled, and pretty soon Tom turned around to me and said: "Steve, this yam is challengin' you to a duel—what about?"
I thought of the German duelist and said to myself: "I bet this bird was born with a fencin' sword in one 手渡す and a duelin' ピストル in the other." I opened my mouth to say "Nothin' doin'—" when Tom 麻薬を吸うs: "You're the challenged party—the choice of 武器s is up to you."
At that I hove a sigh of 救済 and a 幅の広い smile flitted across my homely but honest countenance. "Tell him I'll fight him," I said, "with five-ounce boxin' gloves."
Of course I 人物／姿／数字d this bird never saw a ボクシング glove. Now, maybe you think I was doing him dirty, pulling a 急速な／放蕩な one like that—but what about him? All I was 人物／姿／数字ing on was mussing him up a little, counting on him not knowing a left hook from a 中立の corner—takin' a mean advantage, maybe, but he was counting on 殺人，大当り me, and I'd never had a sword in my 手渡す, and couldn't 攻撃する，衝突する the 味方する of a barn with a gun.
井戸／弁護士席, Tom told them what I said and the cackling and gibbering 破産した／（警察が）手入れする out all over again, and to my astonishment I saw a 冷淡な, deadly smile waft itself across the 悪意のある, handsome 直面する of my tête-à-tête.
"They ask who you are," said Tom. "I told 'em Steve Costigan, of America. This bird says his 指名する is François, which he opines is enough for you. He says that he'll fight you 権利 away at the 排除的 Napoleon Club, which it seems has a （犯罪の）一味 account of it occasionally sponsoring prize fights."
As we wended our way toward the aforesaid club, I thought 深く，強烈に. It seemed very possible that this François, whoever he was, knew something of the manly art. Likely, I thought, a rich clubman who took up ボクシング for a hobby. 井戸／弁護士席, I reckoned he hadn't heard of me, because no amateur, however rich, would think he had a chance against Steve Costigan, known in all ports as the toughest sailor in the Asian waters—if I do say so myself—and 支持する／優勝者 of—what I mean—ex-支持する／優勝者 of the Sea Girl, the toughest of all the 貿易（する）ing 大型船s.
A 肉親，親類d of pang went through me just then at the thought that my days with the old tub was ended, and I wondered what sort of a 名付ける／吹き替える would take my place at mess and sleep in my bunk, and how the forecastle ギャング（団） would 煙霧 him, and how all the 乗組員 would 行方不明になる me—I wondered if 法案 O'Brien had licked Mushy Hansen or if the Dane had won, and who called hisself 支持する／優勝者 of the （手先の）技術 now—
井戸／弁護士席, I felt low in spirits, and マイク knowed it, because he snuggled up closer to me in the 'rickshaw that was carrying us to the Napoleon Club, and licked my 手渡す. I pulled his ears and felt better. Anyway, マイク wouldn't never 砂漠 me.
Pretty ritzy 事件／事情／状勢 this club. Footmen or butlers or something in uniform at the doors, and they didn't want to let マイク in. But they did—oh, yeah, they did.
In the dressing room they give me, which was the swellest of its sort I ever see, and looked more like a girl's boodwar than a 闘士，戦闘機's dressing room, I said to Tom: "This big ham must have lots of dough—notice what a 手渡す they all give him? Reckon I'll get a square 取引，協定? Who's goin' to 審判（をする）? If it's a Frenchman, how'm I gonna follow the count?"
"井戸／弁護士席, gee whiz!" Tom said, "you ain't expectin' him to count over you, are you?"
"No," I said. "But I'd like to keep count of what he （死傷者）数s off over the other fellow."
"井戸／弁護士席," said Tom, helping me into the green trunks they'd give me, "don't worry 非，不，無. I understand François can speak English, so I'll 明示する that the 審判（をする） shall converse 完全に in that language."
"Then why didn't this François ham talk English to me?" I 手配中の，お尋ね者 to know.
"He didn't talk to you in anything," Tom reminded me. "He's a swell and thinks you're beneath his notice—except only to knock your を回避する."
"H'mm," said I thoughtfully, gently touching the slight 削減（する） which François' 茎 had made on マイク's incredibly hard 長，率いる. A slight red もや, I will 収容する／認める, waved in 前線 of my 注目する，もくろむs.
When I climbed into the （犯罪の）一味 I noticed several things: おもに the room was small and elegantly furnished; second, there was only a small （人が）群がる there, mostly French, with a scattering of English and one Chink in English 着せる／賦与するs. There was high hats, frock-tailed coats and gold-knobbed 茎s everywhere, and I 公式文書，認めるd with some surprise that they was also a ぱらぱら雨ing of French sailors.
I sat in my corner, and マイク took his stand just outside, like he always does when I fight, standing on his hind 脚s with his 長，率いる and forepaws 残り／休憩（する）ing on the 辛勝する／優位 of the canvas, and looking under the ropes. On the street, if a man soaks me he's likely to have マイク at his throat, but the old dog knows how to 行為／法令／行動する in the （犯罪の）一味. He won't 干渉する, though いつかs when I'm on the canvas or bleeding bad his 注目する，もくろむs get red and he rumbles away 負かす／撃墜する 深い in his throat.
Tom was massaging my muscles light-like and I was scratching マイク's ears when into the （犯罪の）一味 comes François the Mysterious. Oui! Oui! I 公式文書，認めるd now how much of a man he was, and Tom whispers to me to pull in my chin a couple of feet and stop looking so goofy. When François threw off his silk embroidered bathrobe I saw I was in for a rough 開会／開廷／会期, even if this bird was only an amateur. He was one of these fellows that look like a fighting man, even if they've never seen a glove before.
A good six one and a half he stood, or an インチ and a half taller than me. A powerful neck sloped into 幅の広い, 柔軟な shoulders, a limber steel 団体／死体 次第に減少するd to a girlishly slender waist. His 脚s was わずかな／ほっそりした, strong and shapely, with 狭くする feet that looked 迅速な and sure; his 武器 was long, 厚い, but perfectly molded. Oh, I tell you, this François looked more like a 支持する／優勝者 than any man I'd seen since I saw Dempsey last.
And the 直面する—his sleek 黒人／ボイコット hair was 徹底的に捜すd straight 支援する and lay smooth on his 長，率いる, 追加するing to his 悪意のある good looks. From under 狭くする 黒人／ボイコット brows them 注目する，もくろむs 燃やすd at me, and now they wasn't a duelist's 注目する，もくろむs —they was tiger 注目する，もくろむs. And when he gripped the ropes and dipped a couple of times, flexing his muscles, them muscles rippled under his satiny 肌 most beautiful, and he looked just like a big cat sharpening his claws on a tree.
"Looks 急速な／放蕩な, Steve," Tom Roche said, looking serious. "May know somethin'; you better （人が）群がる him from the gong and keep rushin'—"
"How else did I ever fight?" I asked.
A sleek-looking Frenchman with a （イスラム圏での）首長 mustache got in the （犯罪の）一味 and, waving his 手渡すs to the （人が）群がる, which was still jabbering for François, he 破産した／（警察が）手入れする into a 噴出する of French.
"What's he mean?" I asked Tom, and Tom said, "Aw, he's just sayin' what everybody knows—that this ain't a 正規の／正選手 prize fight, but an 事件／事情／状勢 of 栄誉（を受ける） between you and—uh—that François fellow there."
Tom called him and talked to him in French, and he turned around and called an Englishman out of the （人が）群がる. Tom asked me was it all 権利 with me for the Englishman to 審判（をする）, and I tells him yes, and they asked François and he nodded in a supercilious manner. So the 審判（をする） asked me what I 重さを計るd and I told him, and he hollered: "This 一区切り／（ボクシングなどの）試合 is to be at catch 負わせるs, Marquis of Queensberry 支配するs. Three-minute 一連の会議、交渉／完成するs, one minute 残り／休憩（する）; to a finish, if it takes all night. In this corner, Monsieur François, 負わせる 205 続けざまに猛撃するs; in this corner, Steve Costigan of America, 負わせる 190 続けざまに猛撃するs. Are you ready, gentlemen?"
'Stead of standing outside the （犯罪の）一味, English style, the 審判（をする） stayed in with us, American fashion. The gong sounded and I was out of my corner. All I seen was that 冷淡な, sneering, handsome 直面する, and all I 手配中の，お尋ね者 to do was to spoil it. And I very nearly done it the first 告発（する），告訴（する）／料金. I （機の）カム in like a house afire and I walloped François with an overhand 権利 hook to the chin —more by sheer luck than anything, and it landed high. But it shook him to his toes, and the sneering smile faded.
Too quick for the 注目する，もくろむ to follow, his straight left （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 my left hook, and it packed the jarring kick that 示すs a puncher. The next minute, when I 行方不明になるd with both 手渡すs and got that left in my pan again, I knowed I was up against a master boxer, too.
I saw in a second I couldn't match him for 速度(を上げる） and 技術. He was like a cat; each move he made was a blur of 速度(を上げる）, and when he 攻撃する，衝突する he 攻撃する，衝突する quick and hard. He was a brainy 闘士，戦闘機—he thought out each move while traveling at high 速度(を上げる）, and he was never at a loss what to do next.
井戸／弁護士席, my only chance was to keep on 最高の，を越す of him, and I kept （人が）群がるing him, hitting 急速な／放蕩な and 激しい. He wouldn't stand up to me, but 支援する-pedaled all around the （犯罪の）一味. Still, I got the idea that he wasn't afraid of me, but was 退却／保養地ing with a 目的 of his own. But I never stop to 人物／姿／数字 out why the other bird does something.
He kept reaching me with that straight left, until finally I dived under it and sank my 権利 深い into his midriff. It shook him—it should of brought him 負かす／撃墜する. But he clinched and tied me up so I couldn't 攻撃する，衝突する or do nothing. As the 審判（をする） broke us François 捨てるd his glove laces across my 注目する，もくろむs. With an appropriate 発言／述べる, I threw my 権利 at his 長，率いる with everything I had, but he drifted out of the way, and I fell into the ropes from the 軍隊 of my own swing. The （人が）群がる howled with laughter, and then the gong sounded.
"This baby's 堅い," said Tom, 支援する in my corner, as he rubbed my belly muscles, "but keep crowdin' him, get inside that left, if you can. And watch the 権利."
I reached 支援する to scratch マイク's nose and said, "You watch this 一連の会議、交渉／完成する."
井戸／弁護士席, I reckon it was 価値（がある） watching. François changed his 策略, and as I come in he met me with a left to the nose that started the claret and filled my 注目する，もくろむs 十分な of water and 星／主役にするs. While I was thinking about that he opened a 削減（する） under my left 注目する，もくろむ with a venomous 権利-hander and then stuck the same 手渡す into my midriff. I woke up and bent him 二塁打 with a savage left hook to the 肝臓, 衝突，墜落ing him with an overhand 権利 behind the ear before he could straighten. He shook his 長，率いる, snarled a French cuss word and drifted 支援する behind that straight left where I couldn't reach him.
I went into him like a whirlwind, lamming 長，率いる on 十分な into that left jab again and again, trying to get to him, but always my swings were short. Them jabs wasn't 傷つけるing me yet, because it takes a lot of them to 弱める a man. But it was like running into a floating brick 塀で囲む, if you get what I mean. Then he started crossing his 権利—and oh, baby, what a 権利 he had! Blip! Blim! Blam!
His 決起大会／結集させる was so 予期しない and he 攻撃する，衝突する so quick that he took me clean off my guard and caught me wide open. That 権利 was 雷! In a second I was groggy, and François （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 me 支援する across the （犯罪の）一味 with both 手渡すs going too 急速な／放蕩な for me to 封鎖する more than about a fourth of the blows. He was wild for the kill now and hitting wide open.
Then the ropes was at my 支援する and I caught a flashing glimpse of him, crouching like a big tiger in 前線 of me, wide open and starting his 権利. In that flash of a second I 発射 my 権利 from the hip, （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 his punch and landed solid to the button. François went 負かす／撃墜する like he'd been 攻撃する，衝突する with a pile driver—the 審判（をする） leaped 今後—the gong sounded!
As I went to my corner the （人が）群がる was clean ory-注目する，もくろむd and not responsible; and I saw François stagger up, glassy-注目する，もくろむd, and walk to his stool with one arm thrown over the shoulder of his handler.
But he come out fresh as ever for the third 一連の会議、交渉／完成する. He'd 設立する out that I could 攻撃する，衝突する as hard as he could and that I was dangerous when groggy, like most 強打者s. He was wild with 激怒（する）, his smile was gone, his 直面する dead white again, his 注目する，もくろむs was like 黒人／ボイコット 解雇する／砲火／射撃s—but he was 用心深い. He 味方する-stepped my 急ぐ, hooking me viciously on the ear as I 発射 past him, and ducking when I slewed around and 麻薬中毒の my 権利. He 支援するd away, 狙撃 that left to my 直面する. It went that way the whole 一連の会議、交渉／完成する; him keeping the 権利 reserved and 場内取引員／株価 me up with left jabs while I worked for his 団体／死体 and usually 行方不明になるd or was 封鎖するd. Just before the gong he 決起大会／結集させるd, staggered me with a flashing 権利 hook to the 長，率いる and took a 鎮圧するing left hook to the ribs in return.
The fourth 一連の会議、交渉／完成する come and he was more 積極的な. He began to 貿易（する） punches with me again. He'd shoot a straight left to my 直面する, then hook the same 手渡す to my 団体／死体. Or he'd feint the left for my 直面する and 減少（する） it to my ribs. Them hooks to the 団体／死体 didn't 傷つける much, because I was hard as a 激しく揺する there, but a continual rain of them wouldn't do me no good, and them jabs to the 直面する was beginning to irritate me. I was already pretty 井戸／弁護士席 示すd up.
He 発射 his blows so quick I usually couldn't 封鎖する or duck, so every time he'd make a 動議 with the left I'd throw my 権利 for his 長，率いる haphazard. After 激しく揺するing his 長，率いる 支援する several times this way he やめる feinting so much and began to 充てる most of his time to 団体／死体 blows.
Now I 設立する out this about him: he had more claws than sand, as the 説 goes. I mean he had everything, 含むing a lot of stuff I didn't, but he didn't like to take it. In a mix-up he always landed three blows to my one, and he 攻撃する，衝突する about as hard as I did, but he was always the one to 支援する away.
井戸／弁護士席, come the seventh 一連の会議、交渉／完成する. I'd taken plenty. My left 注目する，もくろむ was の近くにing 急速な／放蕩な and I had a 汚い gash over the other one. My ribs was beginning to feel the 団体／死体 罰 he was 手渡すing out when in の近くに, and my 権利 ear was 速く assuming the 形態／調整 of a cabbage. Outside of some ugly welts on his torso, my dancing partner had only one 示す on him—the small 削減（する） on his chin where I'd landed with my 明らかにする 握りこぶし earlier in the evening.
But I was not beginning to 弱める for I'm used to 罰; in fact I eat it up, if I do say so. I （人が）群がるd François into a corner before I let go. I wrapped my 武器 around my neck, worked in の近くに and then unwound with a 宙返り飛行ing left to the 長，率いる.
François 反対するd with a sickening 権利 under the heart and I was wild with another left. François stepped inside my 権利 swing, dug his heel into my instep, gouged me in the 注目する，もくろむ with his thumb and, 持つ／拘留するing with his left, 乱打するd away at my ribs with his 権利. The 審判（をする） showed no inclination to 干渉する with this pastime, so, with a hearty 誓い, I wrenched my 権利 loose and nearly tore off François' 長，率いる with a torrid uppercut.
His sneer changed to a snarl and he began pistoning me in the 直面する again with his left. Maddened, I 衝突，墜落d into him headlong and 粉砕するd my 権利 under his heart—I felt his ribs bend, he went white and sick and clinched before I could follow up my advantage. I felt the drag of his 団体／死体 as his 膝s buckled, but he held on while I 激怒（する）d and swore, the 審判（をする） would not break us, and when I tore loose, my charming playmate was almost as good as ever.
He 証明するd this by 狙撃 a left to my sore 注目する，もくろむ, dropping the same 手渡す to my aching ribs and bringing up a 権利 to the jaw that stretched me flat on my 支援する for the first time that night. Just like that! Biff—bim —bam! Like a cat hitting—and I was on the canvas.
Tom Roche yelled for me to take a count, but I never stay on the canvas longer than I have to. I bounced up at "Four!" my ears still （犯罪の）一味ing and a trifle dizzy, but さもなければ O.K.
François thought さもなければ, 急ぐd rashly in and stopped a left hook which hung him gracefully over the ropes. The gong!
The beginning of the eighth I come at François like we'd just started, took his 権利 between my 注目する，もくろむs to hook my left to his 団体／死体— he broke away, spearing me with his left—I followed swinging— 行方不明になるd a 権利—割れ目!
He musta let go his 権利 with all he had for the first time that night, and he had a （疑いを）晴らす 発射 to my jaw. The next thing I knowed, I was writhing around on the canvas feeling like my jaw was tore clean off and the 審判（をする） was 説: "—seven—"
Somehow I got to my 膝s. It looked like the 審判（をする） was ten miles away in a もや, but in the もや I could see François' 直面する, smiling again, and I reeled up at "nine" and went for that 直面する. 割れ目! 割れ目! I don't know what punch put me 負かす／撃墜する again but there I was. I （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 the count by a hair's breadth and swayed 今後, に引き続いて my only instinct and that was to walk into him!
François might have finished me there, but he wasn't taking any chances for he knowed I was dangerous to the last 減少（する）. He speared me a couple of times with the left, and when he 発射 his 権利, I ducked it and took it high on my forehead and clinched, shaking my 長，率いる to （疑いを）晴らす it. The 審判（をする） broke us away and François 攻撃するd into me, 用心深い but deadly, 大打撃を与えるing me 支援する across the （犯罪の）一味 with me crouching and covering up the best I could.
On the ropes I unwound with a venomous 宙返り飛行ing 権利, but he was watching for that and ducked and 反対するd with a terrible left to my jaw, に引き続いて it with a 爆破ing 権利 to the 味方する of the 長，率いる. Another left hook threw me 支援する into the ropes and there I caught the 最高の，を越す rope with both 手渡すs to keep from 落ちるing. I was swaying and ducking but his gloves were 落ちるing on my ears and 寺s with a 安定した 雷鳴 which was growing dimmer and dimmer —then the gong sounded.
I let go of the ropes to go to my corner and when I let go I pitched to my 膝s. Everything was a red もや and the （人が）群がる was yelling about a million miles away. I heard François' scornful laugh, then Tom Roche was dragging me to my corner.
"By golly," he said, working on my 削減（する） up 注目する，もくろむs, "you're sure a glutton for 罰; Joe Grim had nothin' on you.
"But you better lemme throw in the towel, Steve. This Frenchman's goin' to kill you—"
"He'll have to, to （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 me," I snarled. "I'll take it standin'."
"But, Steve," Tom 抗議するd, mopping 血 and squeezing lemon juice into my mouth, "this Frenchman is—"
But I wasn't listening. マイク knowed I was getting the worst of it and he'd 押すd his nose into my 権利 glove, growling low 負かす／撃墜する in his throat. And I was thinking about something.
One time I was laid up with a broken 脚 in a little fishing village away up on the Alaskan coast, and looking through a window, not able to help him, I saw マイク fight a big gray devil of a sled dog—more wolf than dog. A big gray 殺し屋. They looked funny together—マイク short and 厚い, 屈服する-legged and squat, and the wolf dog tall and lean, rangy and cruel.
井戸／弁護士席, while I lay there and raved and tried to get off my bunk with four men 持つ／拘留するing me 負かす／撃墜する, that 爆破d wolf-dog 削減（する） poor old マイク to 略章s. He was like 雷—like François. He fought with the 削除する and get away—like François. He was all steel and 鯨-bone —like François.
Poor old マイク had kept walking into him, 急落（する），激減（する）ing and 行方不明の as the wolf-dog leaped aside—and every time he leaped he 削除するd マイク with his long sharp teeth till マイク was 血まみれの and looking terrible. How long they fought I don't know. But マイク never give up; he never whimpered; he never took a 選び出す／独身 支援する step; he kept walking in on the dog.
At last he landed—衝突，墜落d through the wolf-dog's 弁護 and clamped his jaws like a steel vise and tore out the wolf-dog's throat. Then マイク 低迷d 負かす／撃墜する and they brought him into my bunk more dead than alive. But we 直す／買収する，八百長をするd him up and finally he got 井戸／弁護士席, though he'll carry the scars as long as he lives.
And I thought, as Tom Roche rubbed my belly and mopped the 血 off my 粉砕するd 直面する, and マイク rubbed his 冷淡な, wet nose in my glove, that me and マイク was both of the same 産む／飼育する, and the only fighting 質 we had was a everlasting persistence. You got to kill a bulldog to lick him. Persistence! How'd I ever won a fight? How'd マイク ever won a fight? By walking in on our men and never giving up, no 事柄 how bad we was 傷つける! Always outclassed in everything except guts and 支配する! Somehow the fool Irish 涙／ほころびs 燃やすd my 注目する，もくろむs and it wasn't the 苦痛 of the collodion Tom was rubbing into my 削減（する）s and it wasn't self-pity—it was—I don't know what it was! My grandfather used to say the Irish cried at Benburb when they were licking the socks off the English.
Then the gong sounded and I was out in the （犯罪の）一味 again playing the old bulldog game with François—walking into him and walking into him and taking everything he 手渡すd me without flinching.
I don't remember much about that 一連の会議、交渉／完成する. François' left was a red-hot lance in my 直面する and his 権利 was a 大打撃を与える that 乱打するd in my ribs and 衝突，墜落d against my dizzy 長，率いる. Toward the last my 脚s felt dead and my 武器 were like lead. I don't know how many times I went 負かす／撃墜する and got up and （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 the count, but I remember once in a clinch, half-sobbing through my 低俗雑誌d lips: "You gotta kill me to stop me, you big hash!" And I saw a strange haggard look flash into his 注目する，もくろむs as we broke. I 攻撃するd out wild and by luck connected under his heart. Then the red 霧 stole 支援する over everything and then I was 支援する on my stool and Tom was 持つ／拘留するing me to keep me from 落ちるing off.
"What 一連の会議、交渉／完成する's this comin' up?" I mumbled.
"The tenth," he said. "For th' luvva Pete, Steve, やめる!"
I felt around blind for マイク and felt his 冷淡な nose on my wrist.
"Not while I can see, stand or feel," I said, deliriously. "It's bulldog and wolf—and マイク tore his throat out in the end—and I'll 引き裂く this wolf apart sooner or later."
支援する in the 中心 of the （犯罪の）一味 with my chest all crimson with my own 血, and François' gloves soggy and splashing 血 and water at every blow, I suddenly realized that his punches were losing some of their kick. I'd been knocked 負かす／撃墜する I don't know how many times, but I now knew he was hitting me his best and I still kept my feet. My 脚s wouldn't work 権利, but my shoulders were still strong. François played for my 注目する，もくろむs and の近くにd them both tight shut, but while he was doing it I landed three times under the heart, and each time he wilted a little.
"What 一連の会議、交渉／完成する's comin' up?" I groped for マイク because I couldn't see.
"The eleventh—this is 殺人," said Tom. "I know you're one of these birds which fights twenty 一連の会議、交渉／完成するs after they've been knocked 冷淡な, but I want to tell you this Frenchman is—"
"Lance my eyelid with your pocket-knife," I broke in, for I had 設立する マイク. "I gotta see."
Tom 不平（をいう）d, but I felt a sharp 苦痛 and the 圧力 緩和するd up in my 権利 注目する，もくろむ and I could see 薄暗い-like.
Then the gong sounded, but I couldn't get up; my 脚s was dead and stiff.
"Help me up, Tom Roche, you big bog-trotter," I snarled. "If you throw in that towel I'll brain you with the water 瓶／封じ込める!"
With a shake of his 長，率いる he helped me up and 押すd me in the （犯罪の）一味. I got my bearings and went 今後 with a funny, stiff, mechanical step, toward François—who got up slow, with a look on his 直面する like he'd rather be somewhere else. 井戸／弁護士席, he'd 削減（する） me to pieces, knocked me 負かす／撃墜する time and again, and here I was coming 支援する for more. The bulldog instinct is hard to fight—it ain't just 正確に／まさに courage, and it ain't 正確に／まさに 血 lust—it's—井戸／弁護士席, it's the bulldog 産む／飼育する.
Now I was 直面するing François and I noticed he had a 黒人／ボイコット 注目する，もくろむ and a 深い gash under his cheek bone, though I didn't remember putting them there. He also had welts a-plenty on his 団体／死体. I'd been 手渡すing out 罰 同様に as taking it, I saw.
Now his 注目する，もくろむs 炎d with a desperate light and he 急ぐd in, hitting as hard as ever for a few seconds. The blows rained so 急速な／放蕩な I couldn't think and yet I knowed I must be clean batty—punch drunk—because it seemed like I could hear familiar 発言する／表明するs yelling my 指名する—the 発言する／表明するs of the 乗組員 of the Sea Girl, who'd never yell for me again.
I was on the canvas and this time I felt that it was to stay; 薄暗い and far away I saw François and somehow I could tell his 脚s was trembling and he shaking like he had a 冷気／寒がらせる. But I couldn't reach him now. I tried to get my 脚s under me, but they wouldn't work. I 低迷d 支援する on the canvas, crying with 激怒（する） and 証拠不十分.
Then through the noise I heard one 深い, mellow sound like an old Irish bell, almost. マイク's bark! He wasn't a barking dog; only on special occasions did he give tongue. This time he only barked once. I looked at him and he seemed to be swimming in a 霧. If a dog ever had his soul in his 注目する，もくろむs, he had; plain as speech them 注目する，もくろむs said: "Steve, old kid, get up and 攻撃する，衝突する one more blow for the glory of the 産む／飼育する!"
I tell you, the 普通の／平均（する） man has got to be fighting for somebody else besides hisself. It's fighting for a 旗, a nation, a woman, a kid or a dog that makes a man 勝利，勝つ. And I got up—I dunno how! But the look in マイク's 注目する，もくろむs dragged me off the canvas just as the 審判（をする） opened his mouth to say "Ten!" But before he could say it—
In the 中央 I saw François' 直面する, white and desperate. The pace had told. Them blows I'd landed from time to time under the heart had sapped his strength—he'd punched hisself out on me—but more'n anything else, the knowledge that he was up against the old bulldog 産む／飼育する licked him.
I drove my 権利 粉砕する into his 直面する and his 長，率いる went 支援する like it was on hinges and the 血 spattered. He swung his 権利 to my 長，率いる and it was so weak I laughed, blowing out a 煙霧 of 血. I rammed my left to his ribs and as he bent 今後 I 衝突，墜落d my 権利 to his jaw. He dropped, and crouching there on the canvas, half supporting himself on his 手渡すs, he was counted out. I reeled across the （犯罪の）一味 and 崩壊（する）d with my 武器 around マイク, who was whining 深い in his throat and trying to lick my 直面する off.
The first thing I felt on coming to, was a 冷淡な, wet nose burrowing into my 権利 手渡す, which seemed numb. Then somebody grabbed that 手渡す and nearly shook it off and I heard a 発言する／表明する say: "Hey, you old shellback, you want to break a unconscious man's arm?"
I knowed I was dreaming then, because it was 法案 O'Brien's 発言する／表明する, who was bound to be miles away at sea by this time. Then Tom Roche said: "I think he's comin' to. Hey, Steve, can you open your 注目する，もくろむs?"
I took my fingers and 調査するd the swollen lids apart and the first thing I saw, or 手配中の，お尋ね者 to see, was マイク. His stump tail was going like anything and he opened his mouth and let his tongue loll out, grinning as natural as could be. I pulled his ears and looked around and there was Tom Roche—and 法案 O'Brien and Mushy Hansen, Olaf Larsen, Penrhyn, the first mate, Red O'Donnell, the second—and the Old Man!
"Steve!" yelled this last, jumping up and 負かす／撃墜する and shaking my 手渡す like he 手配中の，お尋ね者 to take it off, "you're a wonder! A blightin' marvel!"
"井戸／弁護士席," said I, dazed, "why all the love fest—"
"The fact is," 破産した／（警察が）手入れする in 法案 O'Brien, "just as we're about to 重さを計る 錨，総合司会者, up blows a lad with the news that you're fightin' in the Napoleon Club with—"
"—and as soon as I heard who you was fightin' with I stopped everything and we all blowed 負かす／撃墜する there," said the Old Man. "But the fool kid Roche had sent for us loafed on the way—"
"—and we hadda lay some Frenchies before we could get in," said Hansen.
"So we saw only the last three 一連の会議、交渉／完成するs," continued the Old Man. "But, boy, they was 価値（がある） the money—he had you outclassed every way except guts —you was licked to a frazzle, but he couldn't make you realize it —and I laid a bet or two—"
And blow me, if the Old Man didn't stuff a wad of 法案s in my sore 手渡す.
"Halfa what I won," he beamed. "And その上に, the Sea Girl ain't sailin' till you're plumb able and fit."
"But what about マイク?" My 長，率いる was swimming by this time.
"A bloomin' 屈服する-legged angel," said the Old Man, pinching マイク's ear lovingly. "The both of you 肉親，親類 have my upper teeth! I 借りがある you a lot, Steve. You've done a lot for me, but I never felt so in 負債 to you as I do now. When I see that big French ham, the one man in the world I would of give my 権利 arm to see licked—"
"Hey!" I suddenly seen the light, and I went weak and limp. "You mean that was—"
"You whipped Tiger Valois, heavyweight 支持する／優勝者 of the French (n)艦隊／(a)素早い, Steve," said Tom. "You せねばならない have known how he wears dude 着せる／賦与するs and struts amongst the swells when on shore leave. He wouldn't tell you who he was for 恐れる you wouldn't fight him; and I was afraid I'd discourage you if I told you at first and later you wouldn't give me a chance."
"I might 同様に tell you," I said to the Old Man, "that I didn't know this bird was the fellow that （警官の）巡回区域，受持ち区域 you up in Manila. I fought him because he kicked マイク."
"Blow the 推論する／理由!" said the Old Man, raring 支援する and beaming like a jubilant crocodile. "You licked him—that's enough. Now we'll have a 瓶／封じ込める opened and drink to Yankee ships and Yankee sailors—特に Steve Costigan."
"Before you do," I said, "drink to the boy who stands for everything them aforesaid ships and sailors stands for—マイク of Dublin, an honest gentleman and born mascot of all fightin' men!"
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