fear. Now, though, as rajah of the heavies, the Kid's in a position to write his own ticket for his next setto and bein' nobody's fool I set $250,000 as the lowest sum at which Kid Roberts would climb through the ropes and defend his championship. Bob Young got two hundred and fifty grand for losin' it to the Kid, but with us it was try and get it! I'll tell you why.
In gazin' over the mass of mugs which made up the heavyweight division at the time, neither the milk-fed sport writers or the hard-boiled promoters could see any one which figured to give Kid Roberts even a stiff workout, what I mean. The public knew that none of these boloneys belonged in the same ring with the champion and the fans certainly wasn't ripe to pay no famine prices for ringside seats to see him carry some ham for a boxin' lesson or knock him off with a punch. In his rush to the title, Kid Roberts had already disposed of the most promisin' contenders and as matters stood the boy had just about fought himself out of a job! Bob Young, the ex-champ, was keepin' people from sleepin' at nights howlin' for a return bout and we was wild with eagerness to give it to him, dut the Kid's three-round knockout of Mr. Young spoiled the former title-holder's chances of gettin' serious attention. As for the newer crop of heavies, they needed more experience before tacklin' Kid Roberts—in the unasked opinion of the self-confessed experts. I could of been deported for what I thought of them scissor-bills—they figured they was doin' us a favor by boostin' the Kid to the skies, but what they was really doin' was keepin' us broke!
