Blim! It lands.

He's dead in the air, an' he goes down sideways, strikin' his face first on the rosin-canvas an' then layin' dead, his head twisted under 'm till you'd a-thought his neck was broke.

ME--I did that for a hundred bucks an' a bunch of stiffs I'd be ashamed to wipe my feet on.

An' then I pick Bill up in my arms an' carry'm to his corner, an' help bring'm around.

Well, they ain't no kick comin'.