in' to box the bozo from the rival outfit for the championship of the river.
Feelin' that he's to meet a man of no ring experience, Kid Roberts refuses to take what he calls a unsportsmanlike advantage, so he tells Ptomaine Joe he'll accept the bout on one condition. The man he's goin' to meet must be told just who he's goin' to fight.
"I don't make you," says Ptomaine Joe, kind of puzzled. "What difference does it make who you are?"
"This difference," says the Kid, payin' no attention to my frantic nudges: "I happen to be a former world's heavyweight champion. My ring name was Kid Roberts—ever hear of me?"
Ptomaine Joe stares at the Kid like a man in a trance. His lower jaw drops till it nearly hits the floor, and his eyes pops out till you could of hung your hat on either of 'em. Then he rushes over and wrings the Kid's hand.
"Ever hear of you!" he hollers. "I'll say I heard of you! Well, well, well, Kid Roberts, hey? I thought your pan had a familiar look, but all I ever seen was your pictures and—say, no wonder you slapped me dead with a punch! No wonder I couldn't knock you off when we was sparrin' together! Imagine me tryin' to take a ex-champ, 'at's the mule's wings, ain't it? Well, I thought I was through when you made a monkey out of me, but I ain't so bad as I figured. Just because a ex-champ's got too much stuff for me is no sign 'at these jobbies around here can step with me. I think I'll go out now and deliberately knock a few of 'em cold, just to keep my respect for myself!"
