blood run down my chin at the sight of this boy, which I'd brung within a foot of the world's championship, bein' slaughtered in cold blood by this third-rate, foulfightin' Frog tramp. Again the Kid hit the mat from a hurricane of lefts and rights to the head, and again was on his feet before the fatal "ten," grabbin' the Frenchman around the body and holdin' on for his life. Wow! You should of heard that crowd! Gournet had now gone cuckoo himself at the prospect of knockin' out the wonderful Kid Roberts—a thing which never entered his head when he entered the ring. He chopped himself free and twice more floored Roberts, and I goi a couple of towels ready to hurl in, with my heart busted into little pieces which seemed to clog up the blood in my veins! As I bunched up the towels, I stuck my head up under the lower rope where the Kid was on one knee at the count of "seven." His head come slowly around and he looked at me.
"Stay down, Kid—we're through here!" I bellers hoarsely, and raised my arm to throw in the rags and save the boy from what looked like downright murder.
He shakes his head, and with a last look at me deliberately winks!
He was raisin' himself to his other knee when "Honest Joe" tore the towels from my hand with what is known as a round oath. Kid Roberts got to hisfeet, stumbled around like a movie drunk, and started what looked like a last despairin' swing at Gournet's jaw. In his eagerness to get it over with, the Frenchman slipped to his knees rushin' in, and the blow just grazed his hair as he was goin' down. On the second the Kid reaches over and helps him to his feet, though he nearly
