now, you'll have to ask someone who saw me. People who see me usually remember everything about me, if you know what I mean.
Hurricane made me a present of two seats in a ringside box.
"Who are you goin' to take with you, kid?" he asks.
"I don't know," I says thoughtfully, thinking how Jerry Murphy would like to see this fight with me. "Why—does it make any difference who my escort is?"
"No difference at all," says Hurricane grimly. "No difference at all—as long as it ain't a man. Because should you take a man with you, why, they will be a strange guy tryin' to kid his way past St. Peter the next mornin,' that's all!"
So I took the hint and Hazel Killian, my girl friend.
Well, this brawl was lovely and brutal while it lasted, but then six minutes isn't very long. It took Hurricane Sherlock just two boisterous rounds to smite 12-Punch O'Bernstein "for a loop," as Hurricane put it, and a pleasant time was had by all—with the exception of Mons O'Bernstein and Hazel Killian. It was really a beastly evening for both of them! In the second round, Hurricane Sherlock broke his tête-à-tête's ankle with a punch on the jaw and Hazel fainted when Hurricane's nose persisted in bleeding all over everything as the net results of Mons O'Bernstein's earnest efforts before he was executed. Personally, I enjoyed
