punch made the Briton change feet and look anxiously to his corner for counsel. They yelled to him to clinch, but the champion pushed him away and shot both right and left to the stomach as Blue weakly pawed at him. The Guardsman sank to his knees, complainin' to the referee that he'd been fouled. That was the tip-off that Mr. Blue was through! His squawk was ridiculous—Kid Roberts never fouled anybody in his life, in the ring or out of it. The referee shook his head at Blue and counted to eight, at which point Blue scrambled to his feet in a daze. About all he had left was his trunks and Kid Roberts made a choppin' block out of him with his left. The delirious crowd begged for a knockout and the Kid waded in, intent on doin' just that!
A right hand uppercut to the tip of the chin floored Blue for the third knockdown and when he got up a terrific left to the stomach sent him sprawlin' again. How he ever regained his footin' after that blow is a mystery, but he did, swayin' on his feet like a souse and soused he was from punishment. The referee looked meanin'ly at the Englishman's corner and there was some yells of "Stop it!" With victory a certainty, Kid Roberts stalled, a troubled look in his eyes. He was afraid another hard punch might be fatal to the groggy Guardsman—licked to a fare-thee-well, but game as they make 'em! Whilst the champion hesitates and the crowd's in a frenzy, a bloody towel comes hurtlin' into the ring from Blue's corner, followed by the old sponge. At the same minute, Blue sank to the floor without bein' hit and it was all over!
