Beadle's Dime Library No. 236 — page 26: what you’re looking at

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26 ployer, who gathered up the two checks, and n to chuckle softly to himself. e never tried to deceive Meriden; he had too much contempt for him. Presently he said in his usual cackle: ‘‘ Wash, did you see those bonds?” “Yes, Mr. Hoopler,” said Meriden. ‘*Did you know ’em, Wash?” ** No, Mr. Hoopler.” “You lie! confound your stupid head! you lie!’ snapped Hoopler, savagely. ‘‘ You do know. They’re the Museum Bonds. Got ’em up myself. Your name’s on ’em; secretary of the company. [I’m on as president. They all went to potten years ago. That May’s a darned hard hitter, ain't he? By gum, I wish he was in with me next year. He’s the only man I ever met could beat me at my own game, and I respect him. Old Newgate! Bah! Til skin his crowd next season. He’s going to run Gittuppe against me. What d’ye think of that? Hey? And Abrams! The darned old four-mule pad rider! Nearly crying, by gum! Ill make him cry before next summer’s over. Darn his senti- ment! A showman sniveling over a dead old woman. Confound you, Wash, I’ve a mind to bounce you about those bills. They’re out- rageous, You're in with the undertaker and Briggs. How much did you get? Bah! you wouldn’t tell. Don’t blame you. Well, I don’t care. I’m a little ahead, after all, on the two checks, What’s that?” A hack rumbled up to the door, and a lady was seen to get out, young and pretty. Boopler chuckled and rubbed his hands, ‘* Look at that, Wash,” he said. ‘‘ What d’ye think of that? That’s my second wife. Picked herupin England. How d’ye like her?’ CHAPTER XXII. SLUGGER SAM’S TRAINING-GROUND, Down by the borders of the Gulf of Mexico, the sun shines bright and warm; the palms and sugar-canes stand green and waving; the mock- ing bird sings in the magnolia; the oranges hang like dlobes of gold on the dark green branches; while the herons and cranes flash through the openings in the everglades, and the banana grows in bs A clearing, all winter long. In the winter of 18—, when the streets of New York were ankle deep in mud; when the fog hung over the ferries, and boats crashed through acres of floating ice and slush; when the days alternated between the searching cold of the ‘‘northwester,” and the raw misery of the sleety “‘ northeaster,” two men in Florida were standing in their shirt-sleeves, fanning themselves in the shade, watching a third, who was running, full speed, on a circular track over a hard, sandy beach, costumed ina single yair of cotton drawers, with ruvning-slippers aced on his stockingless feet, and a handker- chief round bis bead. As he passed them for the fifth time, one of them called out to him: **Come in, next lap, Sammy. your rub-down and sleep.” The runner nodded and dashed on, He was a model of manly grace, with a smooth, Apollo-like figure, fined down into bone and sinew, fleet as a graybound, every muscle casting a deep shadow as it moved to and fro. He made bis last lap af racing speed, and came in, breathing deeply, but smiling. **T can take another mile,” he said, “if you want it, Steve.” “No, no, Sammy,” said his old trainer, decidedly. ‘*‘That’s enough. There’s sich a thing as overdoin’ trainin’. You’re to fight to- morrow. Come.” They took him into a little white cottage, half hidden in the dark foliage of an orange grove, and rubbed him down with crash towels, scraping him like a horse, the ycung athlete lying down on a mat to be groomed. Then Steve said to him: ‘Now for yer shower, and then take a nap.” They took him to an adjoining room, and dashed pails of water over him, rubbing him — with flesh-brushes till he glowed all over, when he was pat into bed and fell asleep like a baby, a3 the trainers retired to taJk about him. Steve’s companion was a powerful man, with a jolly English face and a decided cockney accent. “ Well,” said Steve, “what do you think of him now, Joe? Will he win?’ “If ’e don’t, I ain’t no judge,” answered Joe laconically. ‘‘ Barrin’—barrin’ haccidents.” ** Of course,” returned Steve, ‘ But he ain’t goin’ to have no accidents, so long as me and you's round, Joe.” Joe winked and observed sententiously: “7H’s a good un, I don’t want none of ’im. "E ’its better’n Ido myself, and that’s ’arf the battle. Lord, if the champion knew ’ow to ’it, ’e’d bea terror; but ’e don’t, ye see.” “‘ And no temper,” said Steve, enthusiastical- ly. ‘Don’t care bow hot he gets it, he never loses his head. Ob Joe, he’s a darlin’,” Joe sniffed slightly. ‘K's a good’un. That tells the’olestory. I say, Steve, Got any rhino on ’im?” ‘Every cent we made last spring,” said Steve decidedly. ‘It’s win or lose now, Colonel Time you had Champion Sam. Tom’s put it ont at good odds—six to one, most of it, and some ten to one.” Joe grinned as he observed: ‘What a lot of flats some of them sharps is, sometimes, to be sure. That’s ’cause’e got the best of me. Lord, Steve, if I'd ’ad ’is young bones, I’d ’a’ walked away with ‘im in nine rounds, But natur’s givin’ way, my boy. It’s natur’. I ain’t what I used to be, Steve, nor you, nuther.” And the old boxer sighed slightly, while Steve observed comfortingly: “You was the best man of your weight I ever seen, Joe, in your prime. Never mind. It’s all the same a hundred years hence, as the say- ing is.” ‘‘Much good that does hus,” growled Joe, ‘“‘Tt’s a pot of money I’m arter, Steve. I’ve ’ad glory enough. When I can start a nice public ’ouse, and ’ave haJl the nobs a-comin’ to their chops and steaks, and the best o’ brown stout, with a nice sanded floor, and old Joe be’ind the bar, a-takin’ in the rhino, at a dollara’ead for beatin’, and champagne parties hevery heven- ing, I’ll let them ’ave the glory as wants it.” Steve nodded sagaciously. “IT reckon you could doa good biz, Joe. I ain’t ambitious that way. I wants to have a nice little side-show of my own in the Bowery, with a few freaks* up-stairs, and a room for wax-works, and a brass band and a sword- swallower, and a good feller to lecture, like the Markis, or old Hutch, or Hall. Ah! Hall was the boy! He’d draw the tears out of a mer- maiden, he would, when he was a-lecturing on George Washington an’ his Ma, in wax.” Joe stared at him in some surprise. “You're getting hexpensive, bain’t you? I hain’t much hon show business, but that ought to cost a ’eap.” Steve grinned as he answered: ‘*T could do it, nice, for a thousand in stock, and keep the runnin’ expenses down to ’bout seventy-five a week. At ten cents a head, with good paper and ads, and a live man, ['d rake in my hundred a day right along, and keep on addin’ novelties. Reckon V’ll do it when this snap’s over.” Joe shook bis head and began to rummage in his pocket for a short black pipe, which he filled and lighted before he spoke again. Then he looked out over the dancing waters of the blue gulf, and observed musingly: ‘This ’ere’s a rum country. Prize-fights in the dead of winter; with horanges a growin’ on the trainin’-ground. ’Ow much money d’ye think I’ve got out, Steve?” ““T don’t know. A thousand?’ ‘¢Thousand be blowed. Where’d I get it? No, nct so much as that; but, if your man licks the champion, I'll make fifteen ’undred.” Steve did not offer any confidence as to his own outlay, but remarked: “ Well, ’'m glad you’re on him. man work harder to save his money, waking up. Time he had his practice.” They heard Sam yawning, and went in, to be greeted with the question: ‘Well, Joe, can you hit out today? It’s my last practice, and I feel as strong as a horse.” Joe grinned rather ruefully. ‘*T s’pose so,” he said, ‘*but you just play light on the old man to day. I ain’t as young as I used to be. ‘"Tain’t necessary to knock a man out, when ’e’s engaged to spar for practice, is it? Sam laughed, and got out of his bed, to put on his drawers, while Joe stripped to the same airy costume, and brought out an old blackened set of boxing-gloves. Then both went out toa place on the sandy beach, where a twenty-four foot square bad been marked out, and Sam observed as he put on the gloves; ‘‘Now, you old rat, try all you know on me, and don’t you spare me, for there’s money on my winning to-morrow.” As he spoke he advanced on the veteran, and Steve watched the sparring with an admiration that found vent in frequent cries of: ** Good, Joe!” “That's my Sammy!” ‘‘ Well stopped!” ‘‘How’s that for a cross-counter?” ‘* Look out, Sammy; he’s a-foxin’!’ ‘ Now he’s got ye, Joe.” ‘No by gum, he hain’t.” ‘‘ Sock it to him, Joe.” ‘Old style forever!” ‘ He’s got yer now, Sammy!” ‘No.” “ Well, by gum! if the boy hain’t sent Joe flyin’.” The round was intensely spirited, and marked by wonder- fully quick, hard hitting, in which the vet- eran held his own for nearly three minutes, with rattling exchanges, and then he seemed to get tired, and Sam pressed him close a smile on his handsome face, till, with a tremen- dous blow full on Joe’s broad chest, he sent the old boxer flying over the Jine and on bis back, when the young man cried: “Hurrah, Joe! you’re the best man I ever faced with the gloves, till you get tired. I wishI bad another as good as you, tosee if I could floor him without a rest.” Joe got up slowly, saying: ‘*I b’lieve ye could, boy. No, that’s enough *" Freaks.” Short for ‘‘freaks of nature; the common show-word for “living curiosities,” such as albinos, dwarfs, two-headed girls, yiants, six- legged cats, etc., ete, It makes a He’s 4 for to-day. Idont want ye tired. I want ye as fresh as a daisy when the boat comes. She’s due inan hour. We’ve got to pack up.” Sam smiled and obeyed with perfect docility, while his trainer proceeded to dress bim as if he had been a baby, and pack up the simple move- ables in the hut by the beach, An hour later, dressed in a dandified suit of white flannel, and wrapped in a large striped Mexican serape, he was lying under a palm tree, watching the coming of a puffing little steam-tug, while Joe and Steve were sitting on heaps of bags and bundles, inh ape black pipes and chatting over the prospects of the coming battle. Then the tug came to, offshore, sent in a big boat through the surf, and took off the three friends, who soon stood on her deck, shaking hands warmly with Colonel Tom Darling, who said to Sam: ‘‘ You look fit to fight for a man’s life, Sam, The champion’s got a big crowd with him, but we'll have fair play. Were going up the Muggaboochie River all night, to a sandy island in the Fiftv-League Everglade. It’s between the Indian Reservation and the military terri- tory—a lovely place. Now you go and have some dinner. I’ve got up one on purpose for you. Doctor Elliot has ordered every item, want you to live like a king till youfight. Can’t be too strong. The champion outweighs you ten or twelve pounds, Sam. ou look too fine.” ‘(No he ain’t too fine, colonel,” said Steve, ‘“* He’s jist right: you feel him, He’s as bard as so much hickory and whalebone.” The colonel felt the young man’s muscle looked at his fresh, glowing face—the picture o health—and observed: ** You look all right. How’s your wind?” ‘Ran a mile in four twenty-eight, this morn- ing,” said Sam, smiling. ‘‘Ican stand twenty minutes in-fighting, colonel, if the champion can. The colonel shook his head, ‘‘Don’t you depend too much on in fighting, Sam. It’s the place for accidents. You might get a wrench and a cross-buttock that would throw the battle. Youdo what Joe tells you, He’s been in fourteen battles, and the champion was too much for him, Don’t despise your enemy.” Sam colored slightly, and Joe came in to shield him from blame by saying: ‘‘ He’s jest as kind asa kitten. colonel, and I’ve put hall my money on’im, ’E won’t disobey horders. You’ll see.” ‘Very well,” said the colonel; ‘‘then take him down, Joe, and give bim his dinner.” And down Sam went to a dinner of fresh, juicy steaks and chops, enough to make an epi- cure’s mouth water, which the young athlete attacked with a vigorous appetite, and then came on deck to find the tug entering a broad estuary, which endedina river that ran through somber live-oak and cypress forests, draped with the ghostly fringes of gray Spare moss, giving the forest such an unearthly look that old Joe observed: ‘*Rum country, colonel. Blowed if it hain’t, Jest the place for ghostesses and bloody mur- ders and sich. It don’t look like a honest coun- try, where a feller can ’andle bis mauleys like a man. Seems as if the chaps as live ’ere must be fond of p’isenin’ each hother.” The colonel laughed at the conceit. ‘““They’re good honest folks, Joe. Call weni crackers. Rather stupid, but mean well, “Crackers!” echoed Joe. “J’lU crack ’em, if they come any of their games hover me, From what I’ve seen of ’em, I think I could ’andle about five on ’em, heasy.” Then the boat passed on its way through the forest till they came to a broader stretch, full of low mud-banks; and the alligators began to flop off into the water, at which Joe re- marked: ‘* Wot in ’eaven’s them, colonel?’ ** Alligators, Joe.” ‘‘ Halligators? That’s what they makes boots out of, ain’t they?” ‘‘- Yes, Joe. They shoot them for the hides,” Joe looked at the reptiles thoughtfully, and observed: ‘‘What a pity ’tis we hain’t got ‘ides like hal- ligators, colonel,” ‘*Why, Joe?’ ‘ T’ve ’eerd they'll stop a bullet, sir.” ‘They'll glance one, Joe—a round one, not sent straight. They won’t stop a conical bullet well aimed.” ‘‘ Well, ’'d chance it, colonel, if I’ad sich a ‘ide. I'd let the champion punch, and I'd punch with ‘im, and see which could ook ’ard- eo e wish I ’ad a ’ide like a halligator, col- onel. The colonel burst out laughing at the quaint ideas of the veteran boxer, and Sam roared, while good-humor and jollity reigned on the boat for the rest of the day, as they pressed on. Late in the evening they sighted another boat ahead, and a great tooting of steam-whistles en- sued as they ran on, all night long. Sam slept peacefully below, guarded by his faithful trainers, and when morning came he ee Eomicboo (C ‘Ss (E(©)