his eyes fastened on a spot on the floor and looked neither to the right or left whilst Dynamite and Knockout Burns rinsed his mouth and massaged him, and I repeated my instructions. I told him to go after the champ from the bell, carryin' the battle to him and keepin' him movin' too fast to set. I don't know whether he heard me or not. He kept mutterin' thank God his father couldn't see the next five minutes. I turned away my head and says nothin'.
A sudden, deafenin' din from the crowd told us the champ was on his way down the aisle, and in a few minutes he stepped through on the other side, waved a bandaged paw at the frantic mob, and walked over to our corner. I felt the Kid's muscles tense under my hand, but he didn't move or look up. The champ reaches down and examines the Kid's bandages, carefully and deliberately, but failed to get a rise out of him. I got one out of the champ, though.
"You can shake hands now if you want to," I says to him. "It'll be the last chance! We want to come out fightin' with the bell, O. K.?"
He shrugged his shoulders, but he stopped grinnin' at his friends and walked over to his corner after that.
The introductions and posin' for the newspaper and movie stills was soon over, and then with a final roar the mob drawed its breath and settled back, the telegraph instruments beatin' a steady tattoo. I just got down under the ropes with the bell.
The Kid was across the ring like a panther and on top of his man before the champ was clear of his
