Caleb by Alverson Charles

Author:Alverson, Charles [Alverson, Charles]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Lake Union Publishing
Published: 2014-11-03T16:00:00+00:00

The entire day passed without so much as a nibble. Not wanting to seem too eager, Jardine contented himself with talking to acquaintances and buying a few drinks, seldom bringing up the topic of Caleb or boxing. But that night, when illumination spread through the fairgrounds like a prairie fire and the boxing tent became the center of attention, things began to liven up. The boxing show at Shreevesville was a much bigger operation than Hogan’s. The poster outside boasted that it featured nine boxers, five white and four black. They all looked like professionals.

Jardine paid admission for the three of them to the boxing tent, and when they got inside, the nine boxers were parading around inside the ring like a pride of lions. The boss, a dwarf-sized man who called himself Colonel Moran, was extolling their virtues from the center of the ring, his foghorn voice amplified by a speaking trumpet.

“Every one a champion, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, mothers and sons,” Moran chanted, “back here in beautiful Shreevesville to introduce to you the science of pugilism at its highest level.” The colonel paused and raked his beady black eyes challengingly across the crowd. “And to offer the brave hearts among your menfolk a chance to display their manliness and win a nice piece of money at one and the same time.”

Moran lowered the speaking trumpet, and at his signal all of the boxers but one white man suddenly turned toward the ropes and vaulted from the ring like a troupe of prize horses. Left in the ring with Moran was a squat boxer wearing shiny red satin tights and boots dyed the same color. He was of only average height and his legs seemed spindly, but above the waist he suddenly bulged out in a plinth of pure muscle topped with hardly any neck and a round head that looked as hard as a cannonball. He slowly raised his arms like a giant pair of horns, and his biceps bulged alarmingly.

“Folks,” said Moran through the speaking trumpet, “I have the honor to introduce to you Professor Stanley Mott, the finest scientific boxer of his or any day. Just to start the evening off with a bang and spread some of my money around, I am going to offer to any gentleman in this audience one hundred dollars in gold just for staying in this ring with Professor Mott for only three short rounds. One hundred Federal dollars, gentlemen, in your hand! You don’t even have to hit the professor. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t! And he might not hit you. But the professor can hardly show his amazing pugilistic skills without an opponent, now can he?” The colonel looked around the ringside in a friendly manner.

“Now who wants to earn one hundred dollars gold and show his lady friend his courage and skill?” he asked. “How about you, sir?” Moran’s finger snaked out and pointed at a large country boy wearing a cap and holding tight to a pretty blonde in a ground-sweeping dress.

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