The set-to was an interesting one, although Ben did not attempt to punish his antagonist as he might have done had he so chosen. Unfortunately, however, Edwards made a slip and struck Ben on the forehead with his head, inflicting a wound which caused the blood to flow freely. This gave rise to such intense excitement that the set-to was brought to an end. It is worth while to note that many of the men assembled on that occasion have since attained to distinction. There was Uncle Bill Tovee, born before the flood, and known further back than the memory of man stretches. There was Kehoe, whose fame was as broad as the country, but who, alas! is now dragging out his days in the Flatbush Insane Asylum. There was George Rourke, now the middle-weight champion, and a capital boxer. There was Billy Edwards, a mere boy then, but still giving promise of the greatness to which he has since attained. A more expert light-weight pugilist will not be seen for years to come than Edwards. And there, also, was Johnny Dwyer, who is now at the top of his profession, the champion heavy-weight of America, and as thorough a gentleman as he is a pugilist. Dwyer is to-day traveling with Joe Goss, England's pride, and a man whose achievements in the ring are too familiar to need dwelling upon here. There, too, was Ben Hogan--but modesty prevents us from saying more. Coburn, at this time, was matched to fight with McCool, and was in training in Harlem. He sent for Hogan, upon hearing of the latter's arrival in the city, and made him his assistant trainer. Ben remained in this position for about sixty days. It was during this time that he met the deputy sheriff who had taken him to Warren, Pa., at the time of his arrest. As was intimated some pages back, Ben was determined to get even with this fellow, and the opportunity offered itself in the most timely manner. Ben learned that the deputy was to arrive in the city by the Albany boat, and moreover, that he intended to stop at the Astor House. With this information, he had the fellow driven to the hotel named by a cabman whom he (Ben) had paid. In this way he made sure of his game. Then he ran across the deputy seemingly by accident, shook hands with him cordially, and professed to be delighted at the meeting. That same evening Ben contrived matters so that his Pennsylvania friend should drop in at Harry Hill's. Then he proceeded to put into execution the plan which he had formed. Getting some burnt cork, he blackened his face so as to look like a negro, put on a woolly wig, and the roughest suit of clothes he could find. In this disguise he told the policeman on the beat that there was a man in Harry Hill's whom he was going to lick when he came out. He explained that after thrashing his victim all that he cared to, he should roll him over on top of him (Ben) so that the officer might arrest the chap on the charge of assault and battery.