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SHOWMAN
no point in risking Corbett's hands and reputation with another Monahan in a place that small. So we just put on our regular sparring exhibition to pretty poor business and called it a day. But we were waited on by a committee of citizens guaranteeing a $300 house if Corbett would take on the negro. We still said no— but, for that $300, we'd let Daly stand up with him, if they were so anxious to see him fight. Agreed— we went to reopen the theater and the citizenry started collecting their $300.
I posted myself at the door to discourage deadheads while Daly, Corbett and the negro went to the dressing-rooms. As usual, Daly and Corbett tried to work on his nerve, but he sassed back. About the third crack out of them about somebody Daly had maimed for life, "Hush your big mouth," said the negro to Corbett. "Come on out on that stage and 111 lick both of you." The first I knew of what was going on, the negro came running out on to the stage— it was too dark to see very well just what they were up to— with Corbett after him. I started off my marks fast. But, just as I reached the orchestra-pit, I heard a cold, hard, rasping voice from somewhere in the shadows back of me— the kind of voice a rattlesnake would have if it could talk:
"Corbett," it said, "lay a hand on that boy and I'm telling you now you'll never live to fight Sullivan."
I swung round. There behind me, with a hand in each coat-pocket ready for business, was Virgil Earp. I hadn't seen his face for several years, but you couldn't
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