“Naw suh, he ain’t see you—dat I’m sho’,” said the negro, “but I think, boss, he must a’ smell’ you.”
“But that couldn’t be,” said the still puzzled Englishman. “Why, I had a barth only this morning!”
§ 338 The Proper Rate of Exchange
The late Charles E. Van Loan, a splendid story-teller in his own right and equally adept as a story-writer, used to love to tell this one:
An ambitious promoter undertook to stage a prize-fight between two heavy-weights at a little town just over the international boundary between Mexico and California. The fight was advertised to go for twenty rounds.
From both sides of the line a great crowd gathered, the majority of those present being Mexicans.
A somewhat inexperienced but quick-witted Texan acted as referee. It subsequently developed that, contrary to the ethics, the referee had a private bet on one of the scrappers. Midway of the fight, it appeared highly probable that his favorite would shortly be knocked out and so, to save his money, the referee, at the end of the tenth round, declared the bout a draw, and ended it right there.
Enraged and disappointed, the audience rose up, shouting threats. The native contingent was especially vociferous. A first-class riot was threatened.
But the imperiled referee had a smart notion in reserve. By waving his arms and shouting that he had a statement to make, he secured comparative silence. Then he made his announcement and it proved eminently satisfactory. The Americans present saw the point of the joke; the Mexicans were appeased because the explanation seemed to them perfectly sound.
“Gentlemen,” the referee said, “this was advertised as a twenty-round fight and that’s exactly what it is—twenty rounds Mex. or ten rounds American.”