tain that the first punch within walkin' distance of the champ's belt will be the signal for the referee to stop the fight.
They met in mid-ring, Kid Roberts this time duckin' Oliver's automatic straight left and wakin' up the house by counterin' with a stiff right cross to the chin. The champ didn't like this and clinched, complainin' to the sympathetic referee when the Kid whaled away with both hands at his mid-section. The referee quickly broke 'em and was heartily razzed by the crowd. Oliver shot a right and left to the head and the Kid was short with a left to the face. They fiddled around, each lookin' for a openin' which would end it and the impatient mob whistled and stamped their feet, bellerin' for a little more speed.
Kid Roberts obliged with a left uppercut to the heart and a right to the ear. He got a torrid left to the wind in return and tried to clinch, but the champ suddenly woke up and drove him across the ring with a shower of lefts and rights to face and body. The house was in a uproar and the Kid looked to me for advice. "Mix it!" I hollered. "This banana never seen the day he could punch with you!"
With his back against the ropes in Oliver's corner, the Kid brung up his right in a vicious uppercut which sent Oliver's head back like it was hinged and shook the water out of his hair. They then stood shoulder to shoulder and slugged like a pair of enraged maniacs till outside the ropes it sounded like a race riot! Both quickly tired from the terrific pace and fell into a clinch, where Oliver hit Kid Roberts four times with
