away. Thena rush of the excited, curious mob millin' around us separates him from me and Ptomaine.
When they fin'ly get the place cleared, there's no sign of Kid Roberts and on top of that I can't locate him in the dressin' rooms. Ptomaine figures the Kid lost us in the crowd and wantin' to make a quick get-away to duck both his admirers and them extremely unadmirin' sailors, he's dashed on ahead to our inn. Well, I kind of unwillin'ly give up the search and hurried with Ptomaine to the hotel we was honorin' with our presence.
In the lobby, a cutey whose face and form would of aroused Nero's curiosity, gets up from a chair and starts towards us. Ptomaine Joe immediately brushes back his hair and straightens his tie.
"Wam—what a disturbance this snapper is!" says Ptomaine. "She's headin' right for us, too. I only hope she's mistook me for a old college chum of hers. Watch me promote—I bet I take her to supper!"
"She don't look like no lunatic," I says, sarcastically.
At this minute, the fair damsel reaches us and uncorks a smile which scrambled the tenth-ounce of brain in Ptomaine's possession.
"Pardon me," she says, "which of you two gentlemen is the manager of Kid Roberts?"
"There's only one gentleman here," I says. "I'm the Kid's pilot."
"Oh—then you must be Mister Murphy—I've heard so much about you!" gushes our opponent, "I'm Angela Yerkes, of the Morning Shriek. I want to interview the champion from a woman's viewpoint and
