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 There's my entry for the cuckoo championship of the globe!

As usual, I give in to Ptomaine's pleadin's after a week of it had me a set-up for the delirium tremens ward. I got him Cyclone McEinstein for one of the preliminaries to the Kid Roberts-Bob Young championship battle. I'll tell you later what Ptomaine done with this lifetime chance. There's some important matters to be discussed right now.

The gym where Kid Roberts was trainin' in was operated by a gent named Charley Mack which was the proud owner of a cauliflower ear and a daughter called Elizabeth, or Beth for short. This young representative of a sex I predict a great success for was as pretty to look at as the Kid's straight left and she was likewise a inveterate boxin' fan. Beth come by her regard for fisticuffs honestly, as her dear old father was a very tasty middleweight in his day and was said to have once got a draw with Bob Fitzsimmons—at checkers. Well, Beth spent a great deal of her time around the gym watchin' the various leather pushers readyin' themselves to get their lips puffed and after Kid Roberts arrived on the scene, why, she was as much of a daily visitor as sunset. She seemed to know all about the struggles of the handsome, college-bred Kid and anybody which couldn't read admiration for him in her eyes couldn't read the mornin' paper, either. I don't think Kid Roberts knew whether Beth was hangin' around the gym or hangin' around Japan. His mind was on two things only—the world's championship and his balky wife! So with his lack