two-handed liars says I was somethin' to highly interest a young interne in a lunatic asylum, as they never heard tell of no Pancho Nogales in all their upright lives, As for Young bein' flattened by Kid Roberts in Mexico—how do we get that way?
Well, there I was up against a brick wall and without no trowel, what I mean. I hadn't the scantiest bit of evidence on hand to bear out my story of the fight, so the sport writers laughin'ly told me to roll my hoop and positively refused to serve me even a half portion of attention. Fit to be tied, I challenged Young mornin', noon, and night, but this mock turtle asked for so many impossible concessions on our part that it was plain he didn't wish for no more of the Kid's game. Fin'ly, I managed to corner the burglar which handled him in the lobby of his hotel one night, and after listenin' to my pleadin's for a couple or three minutes he offers me a bout with his synthetic champ if we'll personally slip him $150,000, besides what Young can shoplift from the promoters!
I had often heard that Toledo Eddie Hicks once did time for tryin' to steal the city hall at Nightmare, Ala., but I had never put much stock in the tale till he made me that yegg proposition. For a minute I was speechless—a rare thing with me—and then I hauled off and smacked him right in the nose. This kind of treatment seemed to get on Edward's nerves and he hollers that on account of me playin' that prank on him, Kid Roberts will die of old age before he'll ever climb into a ring with his champion. As he dashed wildly for the elevator, holdin' on to his beak like he heard
