of the kid not winnin' in a round. Gimme his contract and it's even all around!"
That's how I got Kid Roberts. A year and a half later Dummy Carney stood in the lobby of Madison Square Garden and, with tears in his eyes, offered me $30,000 for that contract back!
As Dummy snaked his way out through the crowd, I looked up in time to see Du Fresne hang the Kid over the ropes with a volley of lefts and rights, and the referee was lookin' over at me for the sponge. A left chop connected solidly and the Kid slid to the floor, restin' on his hands and knees. The bell clanged at "eight," and we dragged Roberts to his corner and worked over him with everything but a pulmotor.
It's tough to see your man licked, but they is nothin' tougher in the world than to see him licked when you know he can kill the other guy with one well-placed smash! I begged this boy to try that left once more. I tried everything I could think of except Dummy's stuff of callin' him yellah. That's all wrong with these kinda guys. It don't stir 'em up and make 'em go after the other guy hammer and tongs like the novels claims. They get sore at you and remember it for—ever after! Fin'ly I got a wild idea. I remembered that dame's picture in the newspaper and what the Kid had said about goin' to New York. I took a chance.
"You're one swell-lookin' baby for Miss Gresham to see!" I says in his ear, sarcastical as possible.
He looked at me in a dazed way, not seemin' to notice me callin' Her by name.
"Why?" he mumbles.
I held the dressin' room mirror in front of him.
