“Enough times,” Harry said evenly. “And I’m not this Angolan monster. He floors you once, you’ll probably never get up. And I haven’t the slightest intention of chancing — not even chancing, losing — our money on a proposition like that!”
He started to rise to indicate the conversation was over as far as he was concerned. Barney reached over and pushed him back into his chair. His blue eyes were icy.
“Harry,” he said quietly, “I don’t want to say nothin’, and you and me’s been partners share and share alike since I got here, and that’s the way I always wanted it to be; but yer forcin’ me to remind you who put in ninety per cent o’ the money in that bank account. Yer screw at yer job’d just about feed you, and we both know it. Now, I say ninety per cent of the money in that bank is mine, and we both know it; but if you want to split the brass fifty-fifty right down the middle and go yer way, writin’ an end to Barnato Brothers, all you gotta do is say so, and we’ll go down to the bank tomorrow mornin’ and settle it. And I’ll have one o’ the boys set up the bets with me share o’ the money, or I’ll do it meself.” He leaned over the table. “But I’ll tell you this: I can take that cove! I ain’t never seen him, but I seen big guys before, and I don’t care how big he is. The bigger the better. Them big guys can’t hardly lift their arms, and they’re so slow I could have a cuppa while they’re standin’ up.”
Harry was listening, white-faced. Barney wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and went on.
“And I’ll tell you somethin’ else, too. I ain’t goin’ to be no kopje walloper all me bloody life! I’m goin’ to be a dealer, a trader, and I need more money to do that proper than I can get bummin’ me way from sortin’ shed to sortin’ shed every bloody day o’ me life, practically beggin’ to be given a bone, like some pariah dog! And I want some decent claims, in the center o’ the bloody mine, not under the bloody reef where you gotta keep lookin’ up every five minutes to see if half the edge is goin’ to fall in on you! And where yer lucky to pick up wages for all the work that goes into the bloody business!”
He almost sneered at his silent brother across the table.
“Yer worried about yer bloody money! So’s you can go home and get married, with just enough brass to set yerself up in some shack in the East End and raise kids and end up like Pa or old man Feldman, wonderin’ how yer goin’ to feed them! Yer so bloody thick you can’t see this is a real chance to go home in style and open a office there to sell the stones direct that I can buy here in Kimberley as a dealer. It would be a branch office of Barnato Brothers, because that’s what we’d call it.” There was a missionary’s zeal in his voice; then it disappeared as he stared at his brother. “But you can’t see it. That’s how bloody thick you are.” He came to his feet. “Well, make up yer mind. In or out. Me half o’ the four thousand quid goes, anyway. But it’s in or out for you, and for keeps.”
He waited while Harry took a deep breath. He had never seen Barney like that; it was as if he had taken a dressing-down from his father. He swallowed and, mentally asking forgiveness of his girl in London, he said, quietly, “In.”
“Good,” Barney said expressionlessly, and looked at the clock over the bar. “Well, you can start figuring out the best way to push the odds up as high as you can. I’m on my way to the Queen’s Hotel to give that big man of yours a challenge.”
His accent had disappeared as quickly as it had come.
The word of the fight swept the town, from word of mouth, mostly with delighted grins on faces — since it had to be assumed that little Barney Isaacs would simply try to clown his way through the fight and thus gain admirers for his nerve or future customers for his walloping, since he had no chance of winning — to articles in both J. B. Robinson’s Independent and the more established Diamond News. The Independent, in line with its owner’s racial prejudices, treated the matter as a joke, and exhibited a cartoon showing a big-nosed David opposing a handsome Goliath, with the exception that Goliath, calmly picking his teeth, was pictured with one large foot on the neck of a sprawling, squalling David. The Diamond News, in its more staid fashion, reported the coming fistic bout as a straight news item. It mentioned the fight as bringing together a well-known personality of Kimberley, known in the past for his performances at the Paris Hotel; and a visiting circus performer. It mentioned that interest in the fight was running exceptionally high, stated that since the Miner’s Committee frowned on fighting for money in the town, the fight would not take place at the circus but at the Eagle’s Nest, six miles out of town. (It did not mention that the circus owner had pleaded with the committee for hours, and in the end had wanted to drop the fight altogether, except for the inordinate interest the town had seemed to take in it.) The article continued by stating that the wagering on the outcome of the fight seemed to overwhelmingly favor the circus performer. The circus performer, the article further mentioned, was also the strong man in the circus, and had had over thirty bouts in the previous six months, winning them all quite easily. The article then concluded the man’s success was undoubtedly due to his size and weight, which they gave.
Fay, reading the article, was angry. She reached for her shawl, said, “Pa, I’ll be right back,” and hurried from the tent, leaving her father, as always, talking softly to himself. She walked as quickly as she could the two miles from Bultfontein to the Harris shop in the central portion of Kimberley, glanced in and saw that Harry Isaacs was busy, and waited impatiently until he was free. Then she hurried inside.
“What’s this about Barney fighting a man over twice his size?” she demanded.
Harry shrugged apologetically. It was difficult for him to give a proper explanation when he agreed with the girl completely. “It’s his decision,” he said weakly. “If you know Barney…” He left the balance of the statement unfinished as being understood.
“But he’ll be hurt!”
“Maybe not. Barney’s pretty good.” Since wagering their entire bank account of over four thousand pounds at exceedingly high odds, Harry had forced himself to try to believe that Barney might have a chance of winning. Any other consideration was simply too terrible to contemplate.
“Well,” Fay said suddenly. “I’m going to the fight.”
“You can’t!” Harry was scandalized and tried to explain. “Fay, women don’t go to fights. A lot of the men there — most of the men, most probably — will be drunk, and there are usually more fights in the audience than there are in the ring. It could be dangerous for you to go, and Barney would be dead set against it.”
“Barney doesn’t need to know,” Fay said stubbornly.
Harry tried to get the girl to be realistic. “How would he not know? The only woman at a fight! Men would be around you like flies, and Barney would be out in the crowd pounding someone!” Another thought came, a horrible thought. “Or else it would take Barney’s mind from the fight, and that’s the last thing we need!”
“Barney won’t know. Nobody will know. I’ll go dressed as a man.”
Harry looked at the girl as if she were mad. “You wouldn’t fool anyone for an instant! After all…” He let the words trail to silence. Fay had developed into quite a full-busted woman. Harry changed the subject. “Anyway, how would you get there?”
“With you.”
“But I’m going with Barney!”
“Let Barney go with someone else. I’m going with you.”
Fay turned to go, marching from the shop, her mind made up. Behind her she left Harry almost tearing his hair. Of course he could plead some last-minute excuse to Barney, some sudden business that would hold him at the shop that would not allow him to get to the fight early; but he had to get there in time to be in Barney’s corner. Barney could go with Solly and Jack, but they couldn’t second him. They had no experience. And just how would he be able to get Fay home afterward without Barney’s knowing? Damn! Well, he still had until Sunday to discover a means of doing everything. He just wished the bloody circus had never come to town.