"No, no," interjected Mulvihill, "that ain't what I want you to do."
He immediately unfolded his scheme, which was nothing more or less than that I should face the expectant as a pretended Jack Dempsey, famous throughout the land as one of the best and squarest fighters that ever entered a ring.
Naturally, I rebelled, not wishing to expose myself to an easy discovery of the palpable fraud, but Mulvihill pleaded with his most persuasive voice.
"Don't you see, those fellows don't know Jack Dempsey from Adam. Any old thing at all would convince them they are in the presence of the real man, and you know enough about Jack Dempsey and his history not to be tripped up by those fellows, who never saw a prize fight in their lives."
Who could resist such gentle pleading? I could not, and followed my mentor in the path of deception.
Assuming the proper pose, I stepped into the barroom and was ceremoniously introduced by Mulvihill to the "easies," who had traveled quite a distance to bask in the radiance of a real fighter.
"Gentlemen, permit me to introduce you to the famous champion of the world, Mr. Jack Dempsey," quoted the artful Mulvihill, and, thereby, started me in a repertoire, which, in the number of different rôles cannot be surpassed by the most versatile actor.
The visitors pumped my hands and arms with fervid enthusiasm and showed their appreciation of the honor afforded them by copious buying of many rounds of drinks.
Well, the ball had been set rolling and it was a long time before it stopped.
The plan proved surprisingly profitable, at least for Steve Brodie, and although Mulvihill and I had to be satisfied with the crumbs from the feast, we had a lot of fun out of it and that was no mean recompense. You can imagine some of it, when I tell you that rather often some of the "sightseers" would bring themselves to my remembrance (?) by recalling to me something, which had happened to me (?) in their own town, or how they had seen me defeat Tom, Dick or Harry by one mighty swing from my tremendous left.