The Champion of the Weather Page #2

"The Champion of the Weather" is a short story by O. Henry that encapsulates his signature blend of humor and irony. The narrative follows the character of a savvy and ambitious man who skillfully manipulates the weather to his advantage in a competitive society. As he navigates the complexities of human relationships and societal expectations, the story delves into themes of ambition, deception, and the unpredictability of life. With O. Henry's characteristic wit and clever twist ending, the tale highlights the interplay between nature and human endeavors, ultimately revealing deeper truths about motivation and connection.

• Short story

								

in the forenoon. I hear the farmers are needing rain right badly
up-State.’

“‘That’s the kind of a canter,’ says I. ‘Shake the New York dust off
your hoofs and be a real agreeable kind of a centaur. You broke the
ice, you know, and we’re getting better acquainted every minute. Seems
to me I asked you about your family?’

“‘They’re all well, thanks,’ says he. ‘We—we have a new piano.’

“‘Now you’re coming it,’ I says. ‘This cold reserve is breaking up at
last. That little touch about the piano almost makes us brothers.
What’s the youngest kid’s name?’ I asks him.

“‘Thomas,’ says he. ‘He’s just getting well from the measles.’

“‘I feel like I’d known you always,’ says I. ‘Now there was just one
more—are you doing right well with the caffy, now?’

“‘Pretty well,’ he says. ‘I’m putting away a little money.’

“‘Glad to hear it,’ says I. ‘Now go back to your work and get
civilized. Keep your hands off the weather unless you’re ready to
follow it up in a personal manner, It’s a subject that naturally
belongs to sociability and the forming of new ties, and I hate to see
it handed out in small change in a town like this.’

“So the next day I rolls up my blankets and hits the trail away from
New York City.”

For many minutes after Bud ceased talking we lingered around the fire,
and then all hands began to disperse for bed.

As I was unrolling my bedding I heard the pinkish-haired young man
saying to Bud, with something like anxiety in his voice:

“As I say, Mr. Kingsbury, there is something really beautiful about
this night. The delightful breeze and the bright stars and the clear
air unite in making it wonderfully attractive.”

“Yes,” said Bud, “it’s a nice night.”
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