on Queer Street and they shriek: "Now! Let him have it—give him everything, Miller!"
Then the fireworks started!
With a confident grin on his face, Miller again jabbed with his left, then crossed a wicked right to the jaw. The Kid broke the force of the punch by rollin' his head with it and countered with a weak right that missed by a foot. Miller nearly laughed out loud as he drove Roberts to a neutral corner, sprayin' him with lefts and rights to the head. With the ropes scrapin' against his back and the house in a uproar, Kid Roberts looked over Miller's shoulder to me, and I nodded.
Instantly Kid Roberts straightened up and took a lot of ambition out of Miller with a right hook that wobbled the Battler's knees. Amazed at this turn of affairs, Miller tried to clinch, but the Kid shook him off and dropped him to one knee with a murderous right over the heart. The din from the crowd drowned out the referee's count, but watchin' his risin' and fallin' arm, Miller was up at "eight," badly dazed and punch-drunk. Roberts rushed, ducked a wild right swing and sent Miller back on his heels with a straight left to the mouth. Another left to the same place crashed the Battler against the ropes to rebound into a right uppercut that almost tore his head off his shoulders. Kid Roberts stepped quickly away and Miller sank to the floor, through for the evenin'! His dumfounded handlers dragged the carcass to their corner, and, after shakin' his limp gloved hand, the Kid sprung lightly through the ropes whilst the crowd cracked the paint with cheers. Beyond a slightly puffed lip, Kid Roberts
