If the truth is to be known, Barclay had a special reason for making a good job of the champion’s training. He was a good amateur boxer himself, and was used to put the gloves on with the pros at Jackson’s rooms in Bond Street. But, “Thormanby” informs us, he kept a special pair of gloves there for his own use. Whether they were harder than the ordinary we do not know, but they were probably much lighter! The day on which he had arranged to spar with Molineux he arrived after the black, who was already wearing his special mufflers. He could not very well say: “Here, those are my particular gloves,” and so had to be content with the regulation puddings. The result was that Molineux broke one of his ribs; and now he wanted to be even with him, though by proxy. Molineux did not train. As already suggested, he was a self-indulgent fellow and a spoiled child. He went on a sparring tour round the country with Tom Belcher (Jem’s brother), and Bill Richmond. They were not strong-minded guardians, and only just before the fight the black ate a whole chicken, and an apple pie, washing them down with a prodigious draught of porter. When the men met before a huge crowd of about 20,000 people, the black was so amazed at Cribb’s appearance that at first he could hardly recognise him. The simple blackamoor had not believed in the virtue of getting fit: his strength, skill, and undoubted courage were enough for him. And here, shaking him by the hand, was a hard-faced fellow without an ounce of tallow on him, all bone and long, rippling muscles--a very different Cribb to the well-larded customer he had fought on Copthall Common. And none of the champion’s strength or stamina was gone--rather the contrary. Cribb had Gulley and Ward in his corner again, while Bill Gibbons and Richmond looked after Molineux. There is little to be said of the battle itself. It was fought on a stage this time, twenty-five feet square. Cribb scored the first knock-down. Captain Barclay recommended his man to let the black beat himself and to hold back. In the third round Molineux by an overhand blow closed Tom’s right eye, the fist hitting him on the cheek bone, immediately under the eye, so that the swelling took an upward direction. On his side Cribb was perfectly confident, but too old a hand not to be extremely careful, and wisely he gave most of his attention to Molineux’s body--always a good policy with a black man, especially when he is out of training. He nearly doubled up the Moor with one terrific right, and yet the plucky fellow pulled himself together immediately afterwards and threw Cribb heavily to the boards.