"I saw him run his eyes over me when I entered the ring, and he seemed—perhaps I imagined it—to be rather surprised.
"In the second round I felt once or twice that I had taken on something that was beyond me altogether. Sullivan got in one or two mighty blows that shook me, and I wasn't able to land any of mine. But I held on grimly and managed to sidestep the worst punches, and in the last few seconds I got in a beauty on the champion's nose.
"Sullivan's face changed when that blow made contact. He began to wear that bear-cat expression which terrified his opponents. But I wasn't easily terrified in those days, and I kept on telling myself that even if I did take the count in the end, I had at least drawn the claret....
"It was in the third round that Sullivan crashed home that sledgehammer right of his straight into my ribs, and I thought I was done for.
"The blow was a capital one. It took all the wind out of me, and sent me staggering up against the ropes.
"But it really served to put me on my mettle. I felt a fierce shooting pain in my ribs, but I didn't know that Sullivan's fist had done much damage.
"I fought back after that for all I was worth, and got home several stingers on the big fellow's head and face. There was feinting and clinching, and then I put over a rattler of a smack to John L.'s chin.
"All this time, too, I was taking punishment. One of my eyes was closed up, and I had an ugly cut on my shoulder. But though I was certainly hard pressed, I knew quite well that Sullivan was in a much worse plight. I had shaken him up time after time, and he was breathing hard, and finding it difficult to time his punches.
"As he came at me in the opening of the sixth, I decided it was now or never.
"I let fly with my right and caught him solid in the solar plexus, and he went down without a sound, apart from a faint grunt.