himself up to the job of knockin' Kid Roberts for a row of silos. Van Dyke called out the rehearsed blows to him, but the ex-amateur champ, with murder in his eyes, paid no attention, and before the round was a minute old he had the Kid doin' his best, and everybody in the place knowed they was seein' a finish fight and not no movie! The Kid missed a left jab, and Hamilton opened a old cut over his eye with a vicious right, puttin' a straight left to the same place before the amazed Roberts could block. I had to admire this Hamilton's speed, even though I would of liked to cooked him then and there! Roberts brought him up standin' with a right to the heart, but a instant later Hamilton made the champ open his mouth and gasp with two hard smashes to the wind. Van Dyke now yelled hysterically for the Kid to take his first fall, and, backin' away from the rushin' Hamilton, Roberts slid clumsily to the floor. At once the house rocked with the boos of the excited mob, society bunch and all. The only way I can explain the thing that happened next is that Hamilton went cuckoo at the chance to knock out the world's champion—for he swung a wicked right to the Kid's head as he was gettin' up off the floor, sprawlin' the champ flat on his back. The assistant director, which was "referee," was nuts himself with the thrill of the thing and forgot to count, but the newspaper guys willin'ly obliged. The Kid took "nine," and when he come up they was everything but mercy in his hard, glitterin' gray eyes.
I hadn't watched Hamilton work for nothin', and when the Kid's anxious gaze searched and found mine in the mob I screamed over the din: "Make him lead
