They'd both taken enough solid smashes to of ticked a dozen heavies!
A funny look of awed wonderment begin to spread over Kenney's crimson map. Slowly he begin to give ground, his one good eye blinkin' in fear and amazement. Almost twice the size of the slender Kid, he had give him everything he had—buried his fists to the wrist in that corded steel body a dozen times and the Kid was still there, givin' wallop for wallop. I forgot the fight almost in watchin' Kenney's face, and I knew I read his thoughts correct, when without hardly knowin' it, I bawled: "Now you know why he's champion, you big tramp!"
I could of swore Kenney nodded. Anyhow, he begin to back pedal desperately, and now the Kid was cool and grinnin' for the first time since the murder started. He feinted the Bone Crusher into a openin' and drove through his right to the jaw. The groggy Kenney swayed back and forth, both arms clumsily raised before his battered face, and settin' himself, Kid Roberts banged one of Kenney's own fists against his chin with another torrid right. The man mountain toppled forward into a perfectly timed uppercut, seemed to hang in the air a instant, and suddenly toppled over on his back—knocked stiff!
Gaspin', the Kid stood over him glarin' down at the lifeless hulk. He actually seemed sorry it was over!
Mrs. Kenney pulls the Bone Crusher's head into her lap and, weepin' softly, is tryin' to wipe off the gore with a one-inch handkerchief. The Kid bends down to her, his own voice shakin'.
