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SHOWMAN
I don't know how it happened. We thought we locked the kitchen up tight. Anyway, it was still winter in Carson City, several inches of snow on the ground, the temperature well below freezing— and the next morning we found Ned frozen to death with his chin on the doorstep of Corbett's cottage. That was a fine omen to start training on. You can imagine how it affected Jim just when brooding was the worst thing in the world for him. It was a good ten days before he began to come out of the gloomy fit he was thrown into.
But we trained on as well as Jim's new brand of temperament permitted. About the only real workouts he got were when he was in the ring with a new sparring partner named James J. Jeffries, a rugged youngster whom we'd imported from San Francisco to make Corbett work hard. The affair couldn't be stopped now. The big arena, where the fight was to take place, was nearing completion. When the great day came, there wasn't a soul in our camp who didn't feel way down in his boots that the end of the world was right round the corner. Nobody would have admitted it to himself, Corbett least of all— but he wasn't in shape and, however they might have stacked up with each at his peak, we all knew Bob Fitzsimmons was nothing to fool with.
We were the glummest of parties when we reached the arena. But there was a certain amount of humor available, furnished largely by ex-Senator John J. Ingalls of Kansas and Mrs. Fitzsimmons. The senator
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