Three days after the fight with Jim Williams we went to Harry Corbett's place on Ellis street. With me was Danny Lynch, who had become my manager; Tim McGrath and Spider Kelly, my trainers and pals, and Danny Needham, the old-time boxer.

                 We found Jim Corbett sitting at a table in a corner with a drink before him and, as usual, surrounded by admirers. He was telling a funny story when we entered, and though he knew what we were there for, as did all the others who were present, he did not seem to notice us until he had finished his story and everybody had laughed.

                  Then Corbett arose and approached us. He shook hands with Lynch, with McGrath, with Kelly, Needham and at last he stuck out his hand at me.

                  "Howdydo?" he said.
              
                  Lynch did the talking.

STARTS WORK
                  "I understand," said Lynch, "that you still think you can stop Sharkey in four rounds."

                  Corbett laughed and slapped his hand down on Lynch's back.

                  "Yes," he said, "you have it straight."

                  "The match is on, then," said Lynch; "it's all right with the promoters."

                  "Yes," said Corbett; "I've attended to my end of the business with Groom and Gibbs."

                  "Well," said Lynch, turning to me, "you get over to Oakland and go into training."

                  I left Corbett's place, went to Vallejo for my things and moved over to Danny Needham's house in Oakland. I was to do my training at the Acme club, where DeWitt VanCourt was boxing instructor, and McGrath and the Spider were to look after my work.

                  It may be well to explain that this match led to the split-up between Corbett and Billy Brady, his manager.Brady, as the story was told, had been working to get a big purse for Corbett with Fitzsimmons.

BACKS DOWN
                  And then Corbett came to California, and against the advice of Brady, if he actually told him anything about it, matched himself with me - thinking, of course, that he was picking up some extra money for himself on the side by whipping the "soft sailor."

                  Everything was going along fine and dandy over at Oakland. I was boxing every day with the Spider and Needham, and running over the Piedmont hills,when Lynch came over one afternoon with a face on him a foot long.

                  "Tom," he said. "I'm sorry; But you had better knock off work and go back to Vallejo. Corbett's backed down."
                     
                  McGrath and the Spider almost threw a fit - a couple of them.

                  "Corbett," said Lynch, "refuses to go along with the proposition of attempting to knock Tom out in four rounds."

                  "What will he agree to do?" I aksed.

                  "He states," said Lynch, "that he will box you four rounds to a decision."

                  I got so hot that I lost all sense of reason. I boiled over and said many things that I ought not.

MAKES OFFER
                  "He's a fine champion," I said. "Makes a man a proposition and then backs down cold. Go back and tell him that I'll bet him $10,000 that I can stop him in four rounds."

                  Lynch began to smile.

                  "Oh," I said, "you needn't think I'm bluffing. I've got the money - I've saved it up."

                  Lynch laughed out loud.

                  "Hold your horses, Tom," he said. "I know that you're not bluffing. But let's not make any fool bets. Corbett's is the world's champion. They'd put us in the asylum if we offered to bet that you or any other man can stop him in four rounds. Let's be sensible."

                  Lynch had a talk with McGrath and Kelly.

                  "If he won't agree to knock Sharkey out, take him up on any kind of proposition," advised Kelly. "Man alive! Can't you understand that this Corbett is the world's champion?  We're pretty lucky even to get him to talk about meeting a rough sailor.

MATCH IS ON
                  "Get him! Tell him he can have the decision to start with. Promise anything - but get him in the ring."   

                  Lynch told me to remain in Oakland and then returned to San Francisco. Late that night he showed up at Needham's.

                  "It's all fixed," he said. "Corbett agrees to box for a decision. I'm on to him. He figures that he'll run rings around you and make you look like a sucker. I don't suppose that he'll even try to knock you out."

                  "That's his business," said the Spider. "He can make his fight and we'll make ours."

                  The next morning I was out on the Piedmont hills again. I never heard anything more from Corbett until the night we went to Mechanic's pavilion for the four-round go which made me known to the sporting world.