fied Supreme Court judge who would just love to tear off a few little fancy steps on the way to the bench instead of his usual solemn tread. Sometimes givin' in to this silly streak in our natures acts as a useful safety valve to relieve the strain of our cares and worries. Other times it's exceedin'ly disastrous, like in the case of me, Kid Roberts, and Ptomaine Joe, for the example.
After Kid Roberts stopped Bob Young, the heavyweight champ, at the hacienda of Pancho Nogales, we fled that slab and come to New York, not one thin dime richer for our trouble. The thing's a laugh to me now—it wasn't then! How the so ever there was more grief en route for Kid Roberts. Happiness comes in thimbles, trouble in barrels! When we limped into New York, disgusted and all at sea financially, the first thing which greets the disheartened Kid is a legal invitation to attend a divorce trial staged by the charmin' Dolores. Whilst Kid Roberts is tryin' to see her and talk this little incident over, I commenced right in tendin' to business on the principle that whilst it's tough to lose out in love, it's even tougher to lose out on the coffee and cakes! I made the rounds of the sportin' editors, claimin' the world's heavyweight title for the Kid and tellin' 'em about that weird fracas in Mexico which resulted in the champion bein' knocked off by my athalete.
After I had furnished satisfactory proof to the grinnin' newspaper guys that I was by no means addicted to the habit-formin' drugs, they got in touch with Bob Young and Toledo Eddie Hicks. These couple of
