"Stop it!" she whispers, excited like. "You must! Albert will kill him! He was amateur heavyweight champion once and—oh!—he wants to beat Mr. Scanlan—he—oh!—"
I heard Miss Vincent give a little yelp, and I shove this dame away and, believe me, bo, I come near goin' dead on my feet! Because there's my champ on the ground, layin' flat on his face and he looked as cold as the North Pole! I started to dash in, but Genaro grabs me and throws me aside. "Stoppa, fool!" he yells. "Thisa picture she'sa maka me famous!"
The rest of the mob is too scared to do anything—they knowed that this was the real thing! The Kid gets up on one knee, and, on the level, the only sound you could hear was his choked breathin' and the steady click of the cameras—yes, and I guess the beatin' of my heart! The Kid is shakin' his head to clear it from that wallop and I yelled to him to stay down and take his time. He gets half way up and slides down again flat and Brown-Smith laughs. Then Miss Vincent suddenly turns, and there's a bucket of ice cold lemonade standin' on a bench beside her. It had been put there for the extry people. This here eighteen-carat, regular fellow dame grabs that bucket and throws the lemonade all over the Kid's head and shoulders!
It braced him like a charge of hop—his head jerked up as it hit him and he shook off the drops—and in another second he was on his feet, smilin' the old Scanlan smile and dancin' around this guy who was rushin' in to finish him. He swings for the Kid's jaw and the Kid, movin' his head an inch out of the way, puts a hard right and left to the mouth. Brown-Smith coughed out a tooth that he had no further use for, and starts backin' away, coverin' up like a crab. The Kid laughs over at me and sends this guy's head back like it was on a hinge, with two uppercuts and a right jab. He tries to rush in and grab the Kid, and Scanlan closes his left eye with the prettiest straight left I ever seen. He wasn't tryin' to knock this big stiff out, he was deliberately cuttin' him to pieces in a most cold, workmanlike manner.
Miss Vincent is smilin' now and the other dame—is not! Potts's mouth is open about five yards and he looks like he don't know whether to call the police or go back to the box office for a better seat. Then the Kid starts backin' friend Brown-Smith all over the place, shootin' lefts and rights at him so fast that I bet he thought it was rainin' wallops. He begins to register yellah—he gazes around wildly at Genaro and Genaro reaches for the whistle so's Brown-Smith can quit, but Miss Vincent sees him reach for it and she knocks it out of his hand! Genaro looks hard at her and yells to the camera men to keep turnin' the cranks. Potts starts over, stops, shakes his shoulders and turns his back.
Then the Kid tips back Brown-Smith's head with a lightnin' right hook and drops him with a left to the jaw.
They stopped the cameras and everybody give a hand in bringin' the dashin' Brown-Smith back to the Golden West again. Everybody but me, the Kid and Miss Vincent. The Kid walks over to Potts and stares at him.
"Well," he says. "I guess I'm through after that, eh?"
Potts slaps him on the back.
"Hardly!" he grins. "That was the greatest piece of acting I ever saw before a camera!"