The Birmingham age-herald., 1922-12-17


 ooserved that her voice sounded as T she did not care bally whoop what had become of him.
 Your romance, Birch, doesn't get en-" l said.
 The bout was for 10 rounds, no de- cision. We got into our seats during the first preliminary. which was about as bad as they usually arc. And we grumbled and smoked and won last tsour cigars out.
 The New Yorker, the best light heavy in the country, got into his chair and grinnei as storm of app plause rolled over the arena. Pres entity there was a slight ct mmotlun on the far side of the ring, and 1.-the, beautiful young samson climbed in tn oueh the ropes. K. G. Hurley smiled. 1t makes no difference to him how handsome they were; they fell just as hard.
 Three rings:de spectators, however sat like .stone images for q moment.
 Birch, do you see that?r asked ChoIly.
 .Leggo my arm. Hey, Tubs,r-io mc-"quit jabbing me with your el- bow.' Birch's cigar rolled at his feet.
 Sir cuthbert, and stacixIng his chips against the best light heavy that eseI wasw gasped Cholly "Oh, beautiful day when Chat duffer came into my office. Birch 1 wouldn't have missed this fer thousand. Ten to five he lasts 10 rounds. -Esen money he hcIds K. o. to draw.
 We didn't take Choily's bets, for when We did we generally woke up to .he fact that While we thought in tens lie spoke in hundreds.
 Well, to make long story short, it was the prettiest 1U-round exhibi- tion the inhabitants of Los AngeieS had witnessed in years Matched iT skill, in generalship, in weight. il wal one of tines sporting events whict keep up to the highest pitch the tru{ sportsman; and all the more so be. cause it was totally unexpected.
 Perhaps only three people among the hundreds comprehended that the champion was fighting the best he knew how. When he realized he could not knock Gut his opponent, he began to play for points. too late, however, to gain a shade,
 Neither man went to the mat: and when the bell rang for the last time. cnly one of the boxers showed mark. A thin trickle Of blood streaked Brennan's cheek, a chance blow having opened the cut admImis- tered by Cholly.
 The two shook hands amiably: but enc of them smiled only because it. was iatthe rules of the game Bren- nan jumped through the ropes and disappeared through the sureing crowd
 The newspaper men smiled wisely. They had been fooled SC many times that they were wary as weasels. In their opinion it was a rattling good fake k. Q. had been kind enough to Keep the steam out of his punches. Oh. the unknown had skill, promise. too; but K. Q. had been kind to him. Cholly, wht SC chair was near the press tables, exploded.
 " here do you get that noise? I'll pet $lo,0O0 Brennan can whip K. 0. over any route."
 The reporters laughed: and Birch had to drag CholIy away. This was no time for argument.
 Come on," yelled Birch We want to get to his dressing room before he gets away
 Fail to Find Hin,
 But we didn't find Sir. Cuthbert in the dressing room. Sweeney. the pro-l moter. was the only occupant. Sadlv he was counting stack of tens and tweEties.
 Where IS he, Sweeney ?.
 IoHe where the woOdbine twineth. Dressing in his taxicab. Aw. whadda yuh know about this boob, Cholly? Best in the world. And this is his first and last public fight. l could make million with him on my string. See this dough? His. Give it to the Belgians,' says he. And he could have put out K. O. in the fourth and fifth. Yeah, Whadda y.u think? He says to me: This will be draw Think of a guy with nerve like that! And draw it was Oh, I know somethings No surprise to me. If I told you chaps, you'd drop dead. Did 1t ever strike vol, that there were amateurs lying around who could make Packy and Gibbons look like four-flushers? Well, the vanished guy is one.s
 Hey Cholly, where you going?' cried Birch.
 But Cholly dashed out; and vixen we followed him he eluded us in the shuffle. It never occurred tQ us that Cholly had gone straight to Sir Cuth-. bert's hotel.
 Afterward Cholly told us. He found Brennan packing feverishly. Whats going on here?" demanded Cholly.
 New York tomorrow night. And I'm not going to answer any ques- tions. Cholly."
 I'm not going to ask any. But you're the son of Tom Brennan, old Thunderbolt.' the best man of his weight that ever stepped through the ropes, even if he didn't win any