The preliminaries were over, and the vast crowd had settled in their seats. Suddenly there was a stir, a craning of necks. Down the aisle on the west side of the arena came Donald, followed by Andy and the two seconds, the latter carrying buckets, sponges, towels and bottles. Donald wore a dark-coloured bathrobe thrown over his shoulders. There was a murmur of applause that swelled to a tumult as he clambered through the ropes. He seemed cool as Andy piloted him to his corner, but as he sat down and stretched out his long legs, he appeared ill at ease.
Although the crowd had given him a handsome welcome, prophecies were shouted down from the top seats that he would not last very long with the formidable champion. Donald was palpably nervous, as evidenced in the quick turning of his head and the shuffling of his feet. He looked slight and frail as he leaned forward in his chair, the black bathrobe accentuating the paleness of his face. A feeling of friendlessness came over him as he gazed at the huge, strange crowd who were loudly predicting his defeat.
A well-known judge, wearing glasses and a big black hat, turned to his companion. “It’s a hanged shame, Tom, to match that slim boy with a brute like Garrieau.”
The one addressed was one of the City’s leading dentists and an ardent boxing fan. “Don’t you believe it, Bill,” he returned. “Just wait until you see this boy strip.”
A roar of applause greeted the champion as he came down the east aisle bowing right and left in answer to their plaudits. His dark, massive body seemed fairly to shine as he leaped to the ring with easy grace and stripped off his robe. He stood in his corner with hands on the ropes, shuffling his feet in the resin, still smiling and glancing about the arena. Evidently he loved the limelight.
In appearance the champion very much resembled the ape. His bullet-like head was close cropped. The small piggish eyes were deep set under overhanging, beetling brows, and the nose was flat like a negro’s. His lips were thick, with a repulsive twist that gave his face a sinister look. His massive jaw was purposely left unshaved to rasp the tender skin of his opponent’s shoulders in the clinches. His enormous barrel-shaped chest was covered with a thick growth of hair. His shoulders were broad and his disproportionately long arms, heavily muscled, terminated in two thick ham-like hands. He gazed confidently across at Donald’s corner.