Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-02-28

sea on.
Bat had done his road" work,
had skipped the rope and was fit
ting on his gloves preparatory to a
few rounds of sparring with his
sparring partner Jimmy Green
wood.
The Sailor Butts In.
AS he was Juggling at the bulky,
unwieldly gloves a sailor stepped
up, touched his cap awkwardly and
addressed him.
Say, mate, how'd you like to let
me spar few rounds with you?"
Bat, being of an adventurous
nature. stepped back a pace or two
and sized up the man. The sailor
was a fine specimen, no taller than
Bat, but with arms like a gorilla
and shoulders as broad as a tug.
Did you ever fight any" asked
Bat.
"Oh, I spared a bit when 1 was
in the navy" said the man, but
nothing extra.
Jaw, WE'LL said the oblinging
Bat, put on the gloves"
The sailor slipped away and was
back in a minute, with all surplus
outer clothing removed from the
waist upward. And he was a fine
specimen of a man, with arms like
a blacksmith and huge knotted
muscles of his back clearly outlined
beneath his shirt
Bat measured him carefully,
from feet to head and then grinned
wryly.
The son of a gun" said he, che
weighs $50 pounds and it's all man"
The Sailor Crosses Him.
The sailor slipped into the gloves
with an alacrity unusual in tyro,
Then he squared away.
Say, look a here" said Bat.
you understand one thing before
we start I'm going to Atlanta to
box ten rounds next Wednesday
night with mighty tough man. l
don't want to get all stove up now.
You hit easy, do you hear?"
The sailor agreed, with a pleas
ant grin. Sure" he said, I'm just
wanting a little exercise"
And then they squared away.
1t was early in the morning and
hardly passenger was astir But
in flash it was apparent that the
crew had been tipped off, for they
edged in by twos and threes, some
making a stall at working; others
just hanging around, ready to
blow" if an officer appeared.
Time" said Manager Jack Rob-
inson; and the fun began.
1t Looks Bad For Bat.
Bat, true to the Nelsonian plan
of campaign, closed right in, swing
ing rights and lefts, but landing
lightly. The sailor made little at
tempt to parry the blows. but cir
cled around slowly, looking FOR an
opening. Finally one came. Like
the flash Of tigers paw came the
blow and it landed fair on the
Battler's chin. 1t rocked Nelson's
head, and the wonder was it did not
knock it off.
With a scoWl on his face Nelson
drove forward and there was a
lightning exchange of blows, Mel
son still swinging easy and the
sailor hitting with all his tremen-
dous power, For a minute-two
miuutes-three minutes, the men
milled. 1t was Point Richmond
over again, ana the fateful 22d of
February 1910 For Battler, out
weighed twenty pounds, was talk
ing a lacing. AT the call of time
the men backed away.
Nelson spoke but once in the in
PERMISSION, And then all he said
was: The son of a gun. He
crossed me"
Then Came Fireworks.
When time was called again there
was a bitter CLEAN In Nelson's eye
"a look that Dick Hyland, Joe
Cans, Jimmy Britt and Young Cor
bett remember with a shudder,
There WAS no sparring, no I'D
ding. no time wasted. Nelson had
had enough. But he knows one
way to quit and one only-by
knocking out his opponent
1t happens shat there's Just one
effective way Of closing out
scrapper i'm a hurry. and that's with
stiff poke to the jaw. Nelson
had figured his plan Of campaign
during the minutes rest-and it
Was the quintessenco Of Neisonian-