P a g e 8 G h o s t T o w n s a n d H i s t o r y o f M o n t a n a N e w s l e t t e r er to crush his foe with one stroke if he could only get it fairly home upon him. They advanced to the center when time was called, and shook hands with a grim smile that was mutual, and the fight commenced. Both fought shy for a considerable time and Teddy soon gave evidence of superior tact and training generally. “If he only has the endurance to protract the fight, he will lam the Chick certain, you bet,” said Orem, while he was bathing his principal after the first harmless round. And he was right. Fifty rounds were fought, and fully an hour had been employed in mauling each other’s mugs, when both showed evident symptoms of grief, and would have been glad to call it a draw; but considerable money was staked, and their reputation as professional pugilists was involved, and they had to go through until one or the other was vanquished. Soon after, the Chick got in a fearful blow on Teddy, and as he reeled to his corner the crowd evidently believed the fight to be ended. The odds had been bet on Teddy, and a rush was made into the ring to break up the fight in a general row, so that the bets might be declared off; and instantly fifty pistols clicked and were drawn, most of which seemed to be pointed directly at me. I could not get out, and could not dodge; so I had to nerve myself to face the consequences. Colonel Beidler at once sprang into the ring, drew his revolvers, and declared that he would kill the first man that attempted to interfere with the fight. All well understood that when Beidler's pistol was drawn it meant business. and the ring was almost instantly cleared, leaving him standing alone in the center. “Boys.” said he. “this must be a fair fight. Go on with the show!” and time was promptly called again. It was perhaps fortunate for Teddy that the interruption occurred; for it gave him considerable time to recover from the serious blow he had received, and he came up to the scratch smiling again, but fought thereafter with the greatest care, striking out only when he considered the blow certain to tell. I noticed he struck the Chick seventeen times on the right eye in seven rounds (the fight was under London prize ring rules and every knock-down meant the end of a round) —when he commenced pounding the left optic. Chick generally closed because of his superior strength, and took Teddy in chancery frequently, but often with more cost to his own ribs than to Teddy's mug. Finally, after a fight of one hour and forty-two minutes, embracing sixty-seven rounds, Teddy got in a terrible blow over Chick's heart, and sent him spinning to his corner like a top. The sponge was at once thrown up, and Teddy was victor. I went to Chick’s corner and found him in a most distressed condition. His face was battered almost into jelly, one eye was entirely closed and the other nearly shut. The gloves had prevented the skin from being cut, and he was forced to seek relief at once by the free use of the lance to get the blood from his face. His nostrils were closed with clotted blood and his mouth was full of dark thick blood. “I am too young,” he said. “I should have known better. But I will whip him yet," was his remark, as he was led away by friends. The crowd at once dispersed peaceably, and that night Teddy was the lion of the theater, and participated in numerous drinks in honor of himself at the “Pony” between acts. An elegant reunion supper at the Planters’ was the next entertainment, and both wine and wit sparkled freely as we partook of the grateful mountain repast. His excellency, Governor Green Clay Smith, presided, and each in turn spoke as his humor prompted. Several brilliant open door parties closed the festivi
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