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 out Pierce wanted to make it the same day, but ten years from then would of hit me better!

I rounded up Kid Roberts and told him to cancel all games he had scheduled with Dolores and Senator Brewster, because he was goin' to hit for the Maine woods immediately to ready up for Knockout Pierce. Before I was through he shut me off and begin to rave about the palace he had built on Long Island for him and Dolores. The last brick had just been laid a few days before, and nothin' would do but I must come right down with him and look it over. He was like a baby with a new toy, and bubbled away about the "blue room" and the "red room" and the gardens and this and that. He was less interested in the date of his fight with Knockout Pierce than a shark is interested in the price of ice skates. Before I realize it I am huddled beside him in his racin' car, burnin' the roads to Long Island.

Well, there is no use of me describin' the Kid's domicile, because that would make a serial itself. They seemed to be upward of a million rooms in it—rooms full of rugs which you sunk in up to your knees, and furniture which would of brought a pleased grin from Midas. They was a large, private swimmin' pool lookin' like pictures of the old Roman baths, a fully equipped gymnasium with a regulation ring and the etc., a ballroom that—exercise your own imagination, boys and girls, on the rest of the layout, and the wilder you guess the nearer you'll come!

Fin'ly we come to two big rooms joined together and Openin' into a bathroom as big as the average flat.