ut of my partner's library。 Like a lot of businessmen in New York； he had always wanted to read books； but never had enough time。 When he moved permanently to Florida； he ordered a plete set of the Modern Library； including the Giants。 Starting at the lowest number； I was gradually working my way through them。 By March； I was up to The Plays of Hen rik Ibsen。
Not only did I get up with the chickens； I went to bed with them as well； but I still had time for reading and for playing my guitar。 My partner had asked me to stay at his house； but I declined。 I liked Omar； everybody did； but we were together all day； and that was enough。 Both of us were entitled to privacy； and I think he was relieved when I decided to sleep at my own farm。
Omar Baradinsky； like any man who has strong opinions； liked to talk about the things he was interested in。 This was understandable； and most of the time I enjoyed the insight he revealed on many subjects。 However； to listen to him every night； especially when he got a little high on John Jameson； was too much。 Unable to talk back； I had to grit my teeth sometimes to prevent myself from setting him straight when he got off the track。
Against the day when my vow was over and I could talk again； I made little entries in a notebook。 Someday； Old Boy； I thought； I'm going to set you straight on every one of these topics。 If we hadn't separated every evening； our partnership probably wouldn't have lasted the entire season。 As it happened； we were still friends after more than five months。 Because we were friends； I was worried。 We were leaving the next morning and I didn't want to hurt my partner's feelings or interfere in any way with his individuality。 But when it came to the Milledgeville Tourney； Omar had a serious problem； and it was up to me to explain it to him。
On the afternoon of March 13 we sat across from each other at the big oak table in Omar's living room going over the ledger and our accumulated records in preparation for the tourney。 We had received a telegram the week before from Senator Foxhall reconfirming our joint entry in the tournament and acknowledging receipt of our five… hundred…dollar entry fee。 The wire also told us that there would be only eight entries instead of the ten originally scheduled。 Two entries had forfeited。
〃It's going to make a big difference； Frank；〃 Omar said； rereading the telegram for the tenth time that day。 His initial delight over our joint…acceptance…which in my mind had never been in doubt…had gradually turned to concern about whether we would win the tourney or not。
〃I know we won't need as many cocks as we figured on；〃 he continued； 〃but neither will the other seven entries。 Every cock in the tourney will be a topflight Ace。〃
I nodded understandingly。 Omar's concern was justified。 With only eight entries instead of ten the petition would be a lot stiffer。 In parison with a derby； a major tournament is a plicated ordeal。 The matchmaker for a tourney has a pounded headache。 In setting up the matches for a derby； the matchmaker only has to match the cocks to be shown at the closest possible weights。
In a tournament； every entry must meet each other at least once。 Not only is the matchmaking more plicated； each tourney entry must have an Ace for every weight… that is； if he expects to win。
I wanted to win the tourney just as much as Omar did； but this was my fifth try against my partner's first； and I refused to worry about winning。 There was nothing more either one of us could do except pray。 We had to fight the gamecocks we had； and they were in the peak of condition。 To worry needlessly about winning was foolhardy。
〃Do you think we've selected the right cocks？〃
I nodded。
〃That's it； then。〃 Omar closed the ledger。 〃I'm not taking our entire bankroll； Frank。 Four thousand is in the bank； and I'm leaving it there。 That way； if we lose； we'll still have two thousand apiece to show for the season。 I'm taking eight thousand in cash to the tourney； and I'm going to lay it fight by fight instead of putting it all down on the oute。 No matter what happens； we'll stifi have a fifty…fifty chance of ing home with a bundle。 Now； just in case we win the tourney； how much do we stand to win？〃
I wrote the information on a tablet； and shoved it across the polished table。
Not counting our separate bets…
8 entries @ 500 each 4；000
Sen。 Foxhall purse 2；000
Total 6；000
If I win the Cockfighter of the Year Award； that'll be
another 1；000
Omar dragged a hand through his beard as he looked at the figures。 〃Doesn't Senator Foxhall take a percentage of the entry fees like the derby promoters？〃 he asked。
I shook my head and smiled。 The senator wasn't interested in money。 He had more money than he knew what to do with； but he would still e out even and probably ahead。 There would be at least four hundred spectators at the two…day tourney paying a ten…dollar admission fee each day。 And the senator would make a profit from his restaurant； too。 The Milledgeville cockpit was seven miles out in the country。 Where else could the visitors eat？
〃Do you have to win the tourney to get the Cockfighter of the Year award； Frank？〃 Omar asked me。
I spread my arms wide and shrugged my shoulders。
I didn't really know。 Senator Foxhall hadn't given the award to anybody in three years； and it was possible that he wouldn't give the medal again this year。 All I knew was that the senator awarded the medal to the man he thought deserved it。 I didn't want to think about it。
I studied my partner across the table。 If anything； his beard was blacker and more unkempt than it had been at the beginning of the season。 He still wore his bib overalls； short…sleeved work shirt and high…topped work shoes。 During our association； I had never seen him dressed differently。 He was a free American and entitled to dress any way he pleased。 Once a week； when he took a bath； he changed his overalls； but he wore them everywhere he went； to dinner when we ate in Ocala； and downtown when we had fought in Bioxi。 Everywhere。 This was my problem； and I had to tell him。 I pulled the tablet toward me and began to write。
Here are some things about the tourney I have to tell you。 As official entries； we'll be put up in Senator Foxhall's home； and eat our meals there。 We don't have to wear tuxes for dinner； but we do have to wear coats and ties。 Entries and spectators alike are not admitted to the pit unless they wear suits and ties。 This is a custom of the tourney out of respect to Senator Foxhall。 But he's really a good man。 He was never a real senator； I mean in Congress。 He was a Georgia state senator in the late twenties。 But for whatever it means； he's a gentleman of the old school and we have to abide by the customs。 I don't mind wearing a suit and tie in the pit and you shouldn't either； because it's an honor to fight at Milled geville。
I also have a personal problem； two of them。 I've made seat reservations for four people。 My fiancée and her brother； and for Mrs。 Bernice Hungerford and her nephew。 This was several months ago。 I don't know if they're ing…neither woman has written or wired me。 I don't care。 Well； I won't lie。 I DO care。 If they e； help me entertain them。 I'll be handling most of the time； and you 'll have to give them some attention for me。 Neither woman has seen a cockfight before。 My fiancée's name is Mary Elizabeth Gaylord 。 。 。
I looked over the message； which had taken two sheets of tablet paper； and then passed it to Omar。 He scanned it slowly； folded the two sheets； put them carefully in his shirt pocket and entered his bedroom。
He slammed the door behind him。
I wanted to damn Omar's sensitive soul； but I couldn't。 The custom of the cockpit wasn't my doing； but I felt ashamed。 To dictate a person's wearing apparel is a violation of every human right； but I had been forced to tell my partner about the custom or he wouldn't have been allowed through the gate。
After fifteen minutes had passed； and Omar still didn't reappear； I got out of my chair and knocked softly on his door。
〃I'll be out in a minute；〃 he cal