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 straight rights to the head, Kid Roberts reached Young with a fearful right uppercut and then waded in intent on a knockout. He drove the champion across the ting with a furious barrage of rights and lefts which Young seemed unable to get away from. One of these punches dropped Young to his knees and brought the crowd up on their toes once more, a shriekin' like Indians. Without waitin' for a count, the champ arose groggily and found the ropes at his back. With thirty seconds to go, 65,000 people are cravin' for a knockout and they beseech Kid Roberts to deliver. Roberts had the goods! He smacked Young with a right to the jaw and Young went over backwards through them slack ropes, down on the hastily arisin' newspaper guys and telegraph operators!

I got my watch in my hand and my gaze is fastened on the timekeeper. The referee is at the ropes, leanin' over and countin' Young out. The champion is layin' across two upset chairs, just where he fell, dead to the world! The noise around the ring is deafenin' "One-two-three-four-five-six-seven-eight—" At that point, the bell suddenly cuts off the referee's dronin' count and cheats Kid Roberts out of a two-round knockout.

I say cheats, because that round still had twelve seconds to go! Watchin' the timekeeper, I had saw what happened. Beth Mack, sittin' behind the official, had jumped up, grabbed the rope over the timekeeper's head and pulled the bell before anybody could stop her. I had forgot about her, but she hadn't forgot about us!

Well, the place is in a uproar and everybody seemed to lose their heads, the thing was so unexpected and