Finally big George Considine realized his throat was parched and he pushed a button. Up to that moment the summons had never failed to produce our grinning porter from the little buffet instantly. This time there was no response. George pressed the button a second time. We all heard the bell distinctly. All of us had his gaze fixed on the buffet door. Again George rang the bell and this time he kept his thumb jammed against the button. Then he got to his feet and declared himself. "If that nigger is in that buffet he'll never come out now--alive!" And with that he started. We all sat tight and waited. In less than a minute George reappeared--laughing hysterically. For an instant I thought the terrible shock of the afternoon had affected his mind. "Is he dead?" someone gasped. "Nearly so," replied George, choking with glee. "You know I went in there firmly determined to kill him. But the minute he saw me he covered his face with both hands and said, 'Fo' Gawd's sake, Mr. Gawge, don' hit me. I'm good for nothin'. I caint lift a glass, let alone serve a drink. I'm so weak.' I asked him why. 'Well, you see, Mr. Gawge, I've been savin' and savin' fo' a year evah dollah I could scrap together; borrowed from my wife and soaked my watch at Chicawgo. I had six hunderd dollahs on my pusson when I got heah and it was all goin' on Mr. Johnson. But on this trip, listenin' to all you gemmen talk I got so I couldn't see Mr. Johnson nohow and switched and my money all went on Mr. Jeff'ies. When Mr. Jeff'ies received that awful wallop in the second round I said goodbye, wife and chillen, and when he was knocked out--I went with him! And I haven't come to yet!'" We finally managed to induce him to come out of the buffet and told him we'd try to make him a little less miserable by chipping in on a purse for him. Somebody passed the hat. I threw in all I had in cash and I imagine every one else did. The total count was $51.25! I thought we ought to cheer him up further and told him I would give him a good thing on the next fight. He just looked at me a minute, his black eyes nearly popping out of his head, then indicating the bills and silver in his hand said solemnly, "Me? ME, bet on a prize fight? Why guv'nor, I wouldn't bet this money that Mr. Johnson has licked Mr. Jeff'ies." _Chapter XLVI_ LILLIAN RUSSELL What a beautiful and misunderstood woman is Lillian Russell! One reads only of her wondrous beauty, her splendid preservation and her marriages--seldom of her talents! Possessing the soul of a saint, the true spirit of comedy, the repose of a Siddons, she must see all these splendid gifts made subservient to vulgar allusions regarding her private life, all cruel and absolutely false!