Down the Yukon Read Free Page B

his pugilistic prowess.’”
    With a snort, Abe remarked, “This newspaper uses a pound of butter to lather a morsel of bread. My guess is, Brackett couldn’t get a title fight because he’s moldy cheese in the fight game. Why else would he be here?”
    â€œIs that the end of the article?” Ethan asked.
    â€œNot quite,” I replied, amused by Ethan’s excitement and Abe’s annoyance. “Listen to this: ‘Will “Lucky Ethan,” the ox-strong co-owner with his brothers of Dawson’s own Hawthorn Brothers Sawmill, take up the gauntlet thrown down during Saturday’s street brawl?’”
    â€œRubbish,” Abe said, and reached across for the newspaper. He tried to snatch it out of my hands, but Ethan grabbed it first.
    â€œâ€˜According to observers, the Brackett-Hawthorn grudge match is a near certainty,’” Ethan continued.
    â€œWhat observers?” Abe erupted. “The papers are obviously in league with that promoter with the silver cane, whatever his name was. These so-called ‘grudge matches’ are a dime a dozen. When we came across Brackett and his promoter, those two were undoubtedly out looking for a new chicken to pluck, and you’re the ch—”
    â€œDonner was the promoter’s name,” Ethan said. “Cornelius Donner.”
    I couldn’t resist. “I do believe you’re interested in this grudge match, Ethan.”
    â€œStop it,” Abe ordered. “Jason, a professional fighter would tear your brother to ribbons.”
    Ethan just laughed and headed out the door to work.
    The men at the mill already knew about the newspaper story. It made for a strange day. Nobody was really concentrating on what they were doing, me included and Ethan especially. Abe was stewing. You could lose fingers or a hand or your life for lack of concentration at the mill.
    There were dozens of reporters in Dawson City, not only for the Nugget but for newspapers and magazines all across the continent and even Europe. By afternoon five newshounds were at the sawmill wanting statements from Ethan. The next day it was a large pack—Ethan had become an overnight sensation. Abraham kept trying to shoo them away, but Ethan was enjoying the attention. For several days he told them there wasn’t going to be a fight; then suddenly he announced, “Only if the proceeds go to the home that Irish Nellie’s trying to build.”
    Now the newspapers had something to trumpet, and it went straight to the headlines. Before long, and much to Abe’s dismay, Ethan was negotiating with the peacock with the Prince Albert coat and the piercing eyes, Cornelius Donner.
    Here’s the deal Ethan struck: If Henry Brackett won, two-thirds of the proceeds would go to Donner and Brackett and one-third to Irish Nellie’s home for the downtrodden. But if Ethan won, the entire proceeds would go to Nellie.
    â€œYou’re going to get your brains stove in,” Abe told Ethan.
    With a broad grin, Ethan replied, “In a good cause.”
    Because Ethan was going to fight for charity, there was nothing more Abe could say. Resigned to the fight, Abe rented time in the gym for the three weeks remaining before the match, then found a boxing coach for Ethan. He also found four sparring heavyweights with ring experience. One was Joe Boyle, Brackett’s Canadian sparring partner. Abe wasn’t going to let his brother get into the ring with the former heavyweight champion of the British Empire and be bludgeoned to ground meat if he could help it. Boyle told the Nugget that Ethan was learning faster than anyone he ever saw. Abe said it was a lie intended to whip up interest in the fight.
    During those three weeks, Ethan and his mutt, who was always at his side, became the talk of Dawson City. Hundreds came to watch his sparring sessions and debate his chances. After a few weeks, Ethan started to look convincing. He’d