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 early in the tussle that Kid Roberts had no chance outboxin' Mons, Blue at long range.

The Briton come out for round two a photograph of confidence. He tore in with that deadly left and connected four times without a return. Then the Kid tried his own left, but was short, immediately clinchin' and poundin' the Guardsman about the body with his only good hand—the left. On the break, each missed lefts, but Blue then jabbed the champion hard to the face and head. Still cool and calculatin,' thecalculatin', the [sic] Guardsman continued to hook and jab Kid Roberts, till in desperation the Kid decided to obey the irritated crowd's squawk to "Take a chance!"

The champ rushed the Englishman to the ropes and landed a straight left to the head. It was a stiff punch and shook the Guardsman up so much that he was unable to block another one to the same place. Kid Roberts then set his teeth and hooked the sore right hand to the jaw. The blow had plenty behind it and caught Blue on the side of the head as he frantically ducked. Instantly, the Kid's face twisted in pain, and, clinchin', he looked at me over the Guardsman's shoulder and shook his head. The referee broke 'em and Blue woke the crowd up by connectin' several times with hard drives to the head and body. A hot left hook to the Kid's jaw slowed him to a walk and he missed a left uppercut at the bell.

A hasty examination of the champion's right hand when he slumped on his stool showed it was busted, as I feared. Whilst the announcer is megaphonin' the election returns to the mob durin' the rest, I