The crowd yelled as Rough House sagged a bit at the knees and another horrible right to the jaw sent the dark-skinned gent crashin' into the ropes. The customers madly beseeched Ptomaine to finish his man and Ptomaine tried hard to fill their order. Rough House, who'd been busy doin' nothin', rallied and managed to land a weak left to the pan, but the barrage of rights and lefts from the heart-broken Ptomaine soon had the Ethiopian in a bad way.
Well, it looked like a miracle was about to happen before our eyes—Ptomaine Joe was goin' to leave a ring under his own power and leave it a winner to boot! Our dare-devil cook seemed to realize this himself and he steadied, timin' his punches nicely. Fearful of losin' on a foul what seemed a certain win, he even remembered to keep watchin' his corner for the upraised arms of his handlers—the signal that the bell had clanged, endin' the first frame. In response to the mob's howl for more speed, Ptomaine stepped on it and wowed 'em by floorin' Rough House with a beautiful right to the body. The dazed colored boy staggered to his feet, beatin' the count by a eyelash and Ptomaine eagerly rushed in to finish him. The house was in a uproar and so was Williams, when to the stunned amazement of the crowd and the wonderin' joy of Rough House, Ptomaine drops his gloves! He'd glanced hastily at his corner and seein' a forest of upraised arms, he thought the bell had rung.
Mr. Rough House Williams squandered a paltry second on a dumfounded stare at the defenceless Ptomaine. Then he let go a wide grin and a right swing
