He could never hope to hit Gavin any harder
than he had hit him in the second round, and
Gavin had stayed down only five seconds.
It was in the third round that Gavin added
insult to injury. He had just flattened Sum-,
mers' nose with an overhand swing, and was
holding the champion on his feet with his face
turned to the camera so that the blood would
show.
"I musta looked pretty bad to you that day
at the track," said Gavin. "Glasses, and a
lame back and everything. Yeh, I practiced
looking bad for a couple of months before you
showed up. I knew you wbuldn 't fight me again
unless you thought I was all in. You fell for
it. . . . AH right, referee. He's hanging on; I
ain't."

And later:

"The only way to catch a crook is to play
him crooked. . . . There's real fiUum in these
cameras to-day. . . . Turn your head a little so
they can get a picture of how pretty you look!"

With half a minute remaining, Gavin shot a
[352]



FOE THE PICTUEES



short Ugly hook through Summers' wavering
guard and knocked out three of his most cher-
ished teeth. The champion flopped limply into
a clinch and received his final bit of astounding
information :

"Burnt sugar and water looks a lot like booze,
■i > . Pours like booze, too, but it don't do you
no harm. ... If it did I'd be dead now. . ..
Yeh, I guess the bartender that made my private
stock '11 win him some dough to-day!"

Summers' chief second waved the bottle of
smelling salts back and forth under the cham-
pion's battered nose.
"He's murderin' you," said the adviser.
