Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1897-06-19

notorious Sid Buxton, generally known
as the Western Cyclone, burly giant,
who had knocked out every aspiring
boxer that had presumed to stand before
him.
The exhibition was similar in most
respects to those with which every New
Yorker is familiar. There were club
swinging, fencing, dancing, some good
singing, several pleasant exchanges OF
taps between amateur boxers, and final
" the event Of the evening was announc-
ed as a sparring bout between a gentle
man, Mr. Richard Mortimer of Chicago,
and the we'll known clubman, Harold
O. Westcott.
The audience broke into uproarious
applause. There were stamping, clap
ping of hands and loud calls Of West
colt! Westcott'
As vet Mr.. Mortimer had not shown
himself. He was in the dressing room
behind the stage. slowly rose to my
feet and with my topcoat over my arm
walked forward. As I ascended the steps
at the end the applause became deafen-
ing.
"What hypocrisy" I unused. "Of the
500 men in this room four -fifths would
give a goodly part Of what they are
worth to see me stretched almost life
less before this brute that has been
brought here for the express purpose of
half killing me. D."
The man who had expressed fervent
wishes for my success and who declared
that he had 800 upon me was obse-
quious in his attentions. He accompa-
MED me to the dressing room, helped
me to shed my outer clothing and to ad-
just the gloves to my hands, repeating
his best wishes and his confidence in
my prowess.
"Who is this Mortimer" I asked,
after the strings were tied at my wrists
"Some Chicago dude, believe. He
has been practicing out there until he
fancies, like every one from the Windy
City, that he knows it all He has come
east to give the New Workers a few les
sons, but I reckon he'll know more TO-
morrow than he does now
POSSIBLY, though it seems to me
that we ought to have been introduced
before meeting on the stage. However,
let that 20. Where is hep
"In the next room Would you like to
see him?''
Eyes. Lead me to him. o."
Passing through the door separating
the apartments, I was introduced to
Mr.. Mortimer of Chicago He was a
prodigious brute, mass of rigid mus
cles, pianolike legs. enormous. arms,
bullet head, with fiat nose, beadlike
eyes, close cropped hair and a counte-
nance that reminded me Of a gorilla
He nodded with grin that showed his
yellow teeth, but did not speak. Per-
haps he was afraid of revealing his per-
sonality by his language.
Five minutes later we were intro
duced to the audience from the stage
The applause was tremendous. One in
my position sees much more than is sus-
pected. could easily read the expectant
looks and knew that nearly every man
there was gloating in advance over my
humiliation.
looked at Harold He caught my
eye and nodded He was the happiest
person in the house, for he knew what
was coming Possibly was equally
happy, for I felt that it was to be my
pleasure of battling a mean plot.
Mr.. Mortimer evidently looked upon
his task as such dead easy" one that
he felt able to toy with me as cat
does with a mouse. He must keep up
the semblance Of fairness and not be
too rough from the start.
We had spared few minutes, when
he landed lightly on my chest. 1t sent
me backward a couple Of PAGES, for I
was not expecting it.
1t was apparent to me that the fellow
was skillful sparrer, and it was impor-
tant to be- on my guard, for, although
my strength was prodigious, l was az
vulnerable as ordinary mortals to attack.
If I suffered him to land one Of his
terrific blows, I should be laid out. My
only safety, therefore. was in anticipat'
ing him.
Sparrers, like fencers, look straight
into each others eyes. 1t is fatal mis-
take to do otherwise. We continued
seesawing round each other. I landing
blow now and then, which was not
hard enough to trouble him, while ]
stopped one or two ugly thrusts. Sud
denly there was peculiar whistle and
call from several quarters of the house.
The people were becoming impatient.
They did not wish to wait any longer fol
my overthrow.
I saw look of hideous devilishness
come into the gorillalike face before me.
The brute was gathering himself for the
Knockout blow, and while doing so an
extraordinary thing took place.
The Western Cyclone was seen to rise
abruptly from the stage and then speed
outward ana through the air, like an
enormous bullfrog. He shot half way
across the room, sprawling in the aisle
directly behind where the astounded
Harold Westcott was sitting. The blow
which did this was planted squarely in
the middle of the hairy chest. Had it
struck his skull it would have been