On the occasion selected for the match, Lawler’s house and grounds presented the characteristics of a grand gala day. Murphy was early on the spot—scarce two hundred yards from the tavern—where were congregated men, women, and children to the number of two hundred or more, all interested in seeing and enjoying the exciting sport. There was at first a great difference in opinion as to who should be the winner, the bets ranging from five to ten dollars each battle, and being plentiful for both sides. Of course Mike Lawler was reaping at the same time a plentiful harvest through the sale of drinkables at the bar. It employed his own services and those of his wife to keep pace with the impatient orders of the thirsty ones. Meantime McKenna, dressed for the occasion in his Sunday clothes, with his hair straightened out and his beard trimmed, wearing a new, soft hat, which was the envy of all the men and the wonder of all the women, was attending to his part of the business. At first the odds ran heavy in favor of Murphy’s brood,—and they certainly were very handsome chickens; but when McKenna put aside the brand-new hat, and, with a red bandanna handkerchief wound in the shape of a turban round his red head, a strap encircling his waist, coat and vest off, sleeves rolled up, and game chicken in hand, entered the ring, the betting changed, and the difference was two to one in favor of the mufflers. They were certainly ferocious-looking bipeds. It is needless to attempt a description of the chicken-match. Appropriate language fails. But it is sufficient to say that Lawler’s mufflers carried off the honors. As a consequence, McKenna acquired a wide-spread reputation throughout the mines as a manager of such affairs. [Illustration: _“Lawler’s Mufflers carried off the honors.”_] Murphy accepted defeat all in good part, as everything had been fair and above-board, and challenged Muff Lawler for a return match, to take place early the next month, at his house, near Girardville. This was promptly accepted by the Shenandoah party, and time named, when the crowd dispersed, leaving the innkeeper to count over his day’s gains, which were not inconsiderable. Of course McKenna’s services were once more in requisition to train the birds, and afterward to fight them. When the morning arrived he had to carry the chickens on his back, in a bag, a distance of over three miles to Connor’s Patch, where Murphy lived. The road was rough, his burden not light; and when he returned, again the winner of the fight, to Shenandoah, late at night, from Girardville, he was weary enough, and heartily sick of cock-fighting as a profession, or even for amusement. There was a great crowd assembled at the Patch—if anything, larger than the one Lawler had secured—and Murphy, though twice defeated, said he was “enthirely contint wid the results!” So were most of those in attendance.