swellin' on his jaw. The champ looked very tired, and durin' the rest the odds switched from eight to five, with the champ favorite, to even money.
The champion come out for the second round to get it over with, and after pumpin' three stiff lefts to the face without a return, shifted his attack to the bedy, which begin to show big red blotches over the Kid's burn rib. Roberts fin'ly untracked himself and sent the champ staggerin' back with a wicked right uppercut, followin' that with a left to the mouth that showered the champ's neck and shoulders with gore. The mob kept up a continual din that must of been heard in Egypt. Crazy with rage, the champ pumped in two rights that looked pretty low, and the referee cautioned him, but the Kid waved the official away and drove a terrific right to the champ's ribs and nearly knocked him through the ropes. It looked like the end, and the Kid drove the mob into several higher degrees of insanity by crashin' the champ to the canvas with a perfectly timed right hook to the jaw. He took "nine" and was in a bad way when he floundered to his feet and managed to clinch right in our corner.
Then come the most sensational thing I ever seen at a prize fight—the thing the newspapers give more space to than they did the fight! The champ has his back to me and the Kid is lookin' out at the crowd over his shoulder, tryin' to work loose and finish his man. Suddenly his face goes a dull white, and his eyes takes on a wild stare. His arms slowly slides down the champ's quiverin' back and he shivers, like they was a sudden draft. I jumped on the stool and looked into the crowd, followin' his own startled gaze, and I seen
