sent Frankie sprawlin' to his knees. As tough as a rhino, Frankie jumps up to be met with a left and right which put him down again on all fours. I screamed to the excited handlers to climb in with me and we're scramblin' through the ropes when Francis arises again. He looked to be out on his feet and Kid Roberts stood hesitatin', evidently not wantin' to smack him no more. One of the handlers grabbed at Frankie and Frank give him a shove which sent him half ways across the ring. Then Frankie suddenly leaped towards the Kid, swingin' hard and low with his left as he jumped. A dozen guys rushed him, but they was too late. The punch took Kid Roberts squarely below the belt—a deliberate, nasty, vicious foul which Frankie hoped would cripple him! The Kid's face went grey and twisted with agony, but he didn't even give Frankie the satisfaction of goin' down writhin', like nine out of nine would of done from that kind of a sock. Instead, Kid Roberts stepped forward and uppercut this dumfounded hound with a right which nearly tore Frankie's useless head off his shoulders and lifted him inches from the floor. When Francis dropped, he fell like they do with heart failure! He was out for fifteen minutes and come to in a alley back of the gym, where the enraged Ptomaine Joe throwed him on his way to a doctor for the Kid.
Well, youth, health and determination is a hard combination to beat! In spite of the gash over the eye and Frankie Nolan's foul punch, which didn't turn out as bad as we expected, Kid Roberts was ready to put up the fight of his life when the night of the world's
