three rounds and attempt to win the five-thousanddollar prize by knockin' the world's heavyweight champeen off of his feet. Allow me to present to you, one and all, Hurricane Kenney, the Chickasha Bone Crusher!"
The mob howls with joy, and Joe Kenney's eyes stuck out of his head till you could of knock 'em off with a cane when he hears the title which the announcer had bestowed on him, the first time, as I found out later, he had ever stepped into a ring! Whilst our referee is tellin' the Chickasha Bone Crusher that kickin', bitin', jiu jitsu, or pullin' a knife will disqualify him, a scatterin' beller of "Weights! Weights!" comes up from the customers, and the announcer again whispers to Joseph, then leans over the ropes.
"The weights!" he hollers. "The weights is: Kid Roberts, one ninety-seven and a half; Hurricane Kenney, two hundred and twenty-six!"
"Wow!" shrieks the crowd. "Knock him out, Kenney, we're with ya!"
Then the bell rung. Kenney had evidently made up his mind that he would qualify immediately for the "Hurricane" label which had just been gave him, for he charged across the ring at the Kid with a snarl like a famished panther. For a man of his bulk he was really surprisin'ly light on his feet, but the first wild haymaker he let go was the tip off that Joe had never before pushed his knuckles through a boxin' glove. The Kid lazily blocked the punch and countered with a straight left to the mouth that made Kenney say how do you do and brung joyful yelps from the crowd.
