In less than a week after the above incident we three, having squandered our earnings in Chicago, were back at the old camp seeking re-employment. There happened to be only one vacancy, which the Irishman persuaded Cockney to accept, whilst we two would travel on to the next camp, a distance of two miles. We were about to do this when the boss ganger asked me if I would like a position in the boarding shanty as assistant cook. Knowing that an assistant cook meant no more than carrying water, peeling potatoes, washing dishes, keeping a good fire and opening cans of condensed meat and preserves—I felt quite confident in undertaking such a position. So the Cockney and I started to work at once, but before doing so, arranged for the keep of Pat until a vacancy occurred, his meals to be entered to our account. The next morning his chance came and he was set to work.
We had been working four days, and on the evening of that fourth day we three and a number of others were resting ourselves in a quiet place near the camp. Whilst seated there, smoking and talking, there came along four strangers, who seated themselves some distance from us, but within earshot of our conversation. No one paid much heed to them, for it was not unusual to be visited by strangers in quest of work. But there was one man who could not keep his eyes from them, and that was Cockney Tom. “Yes,” he said to me after several long puffs at his pipe, “that stranger, showing us his side face, is the very man who attempted to rob us.” Saying this the Cockney took off his cap and laying it carefully on the ground with its inside uppermost, placed therein his dirty clay pipe, as gently as a woman putting a sleeping babe in its cradle—and to the no small surprise of his companions began to address them in this oratorical fashion: “Gentlemen, some time ago a man attempted to rob me and two others, and ever since then I have been longing to meet him face to face. At last we meet, and I would like to know what is to be done with him.” “Why, give him a good hiding, of course,” cried several angry voices. On hearing this the Cockney at once turned towards the strangers—whom he had hitherto pretended not to notice—and in three bounds was standing over them. Placing his hands on the shoulders of one he said in a calm voice, “This is my man.” The man referred to rose deliberately to his feet, as though he had expected this, and his companions did likewise. “Well,” said he, “what is the trouble?” “You know quite well,” replied the Cockney, “so you may as well strip without further question.” Whatever the stranger was, he certainly was no coward, for his coat and waistcoat were soon in the hands of his companion. The Cockney lost no time, and the next minute they stood squaring before each other in such a scientific way as promised the onlookers a most interesting exhibition. Although the stranger was the taller of the two, the Cockney seemed to possess the longer reach. Round after round they fought, and in spite of their heavy and muddy boots the footwork was neat, and the dodging of their heads, and the feinting of their arms made the more gentle onlookers overlook the drawing of blood. There was no wrestling, or mauling on the ground, and there was no attempt at foul blows, for each of the principals seemed to value the favour of that most appreciative assembly. It looked more like a friendly exhibition than two men attempting to take life. The spectators laughed approval and buzzed with admiration until even the bleeding men, hearing this, chaffed one another, and smiled at each other grimly with their battered faces. Yes, it seemed friendly enough until the tenth round when the Cockney, who the round previous seemed to show signs of weariness, called to his assistance some latent force which set his arms to work like a pair of axes on a tree, and down his opponent fell, and the battle was lost and won. The stranger was borne away by his companions, and Cockney Tom returned to the camp to dress his injuries, which did not prevent him from work on the following day. The Cockney was well pleased with this exploit, and
