"
"I say, Bourne," said Acton, turning to Jack, "ever heard of the Alabama
Coon?"
"The fellow who won that fight in Holland? The prize-fighter?"
"The very same."
"Rather!"
"Well, I've engaged him to give me a few lessons here. I'm going to try
for the Heavy at Aldershot. Like to see the fun?"
"Rather!"
"Then come along."
Together they went into the stable, and therein found "The Coon," a
coal-black negro, busily shovelling sand upon the floor, smoking an
enormous cigar the while.
"Making ready the cockpit," said Acton to Jack, who was staring open-eyed
at the worker. "Lusty looking animal, eh?"
"My aunt!" said Jack.
"Hallo, Coon, you're about ready!"
"Yaas, sir," said the negro. "I'm almost through."
"Brought the mittens with you, too?"
"Yaas, sir, I have the feather beds."
"Then when you've peeled we'll start."
The Coon put down his spade and slipped behind a stall.
"You see, young 'un, the sergeant at the gym is a good old hand, but he
is an old hand, so to speak--hasn't got the polish. Seeing that at
Aldershot they tie us down to a very few rounds, if St. Amory's have to
make any show at all they must get all the points they can first round or
so. That's why I've got the Coon down here. He is the most scientific
boxer we have."
"The figure will be pretty stiff, Acton, eh?"
"No matter about that if I can beat Jarvis. By the way, Bourne, you need
not say anything about this to any one. I have particular reasons for
keeping this quiet.
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