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 suddenly rushes blindly into a clinch and durin' the mix-up which follows, he deliberately sinks his flashin' teeth in the Kid's left ear!

Leapin' Tuna! You should of heard that crowd!

When the startled referee recovered his senses, he immediately stopped proceedin's and raised Kid Roberts' gloved hand, awardin' the champion the fight on a foul amidst the wildest confusion. That was O. K.—the referee couldn't do nothin' else—but it wasn't enough for Ptomaine Joe! This gent prob'ly thought the already overfed patrons hadn't yet had enough amusement for their money and he decided to personally remedy the shortage.

Enraged by the cannibal tactics of the Arab in tryin' to graze from the Kid's ear, Ptomaine broke away from me and jumped into the ring. His face is as grim as a death sentence as he starts for the bitin' sheik's corner—he looks business, what I mean! The foreigner's handlers, Rough House Williams and Two-Punch McGazzatti, rush forward to protect their man, but the thoroughly burnt up Ptomaine was in no mood for nonsense. Had them babies tackled Ptomaine one at a time they might of stopped him, but they tried to gang him and that was their hard luck! Ptomaine whinnied, "Come on, like it!" with pure delight and tied into them. When the smoke of battle cleared away, both of Ptomaine's former conquerors was stretched flat on the canvas as cold as a loan shark's heart! All Ptomaine got out of it was two or three deep breaths.

The coppers swarm into the ring as Thomas, with