“I was puzzled for a moment, Nat,” said Billy, “but I soon remembered we are fighting no-decision bouts. For the sake of records, I should have continued the count and the man who got to his feet first would have been the winner.” * * * * * Two of the strangest knock-downs I have ever seen took place at the same Fairmont Club, one between Boyo Driscoll and Biz Mackey and the other between Soldier Kearns and “One Round” Davis, both in 1911. In the fight between Kearns and Davis, the latter was handing a whale of a beating to Kearns and apparently had victory well in hand. But Kearns stepped in and like lightning shot up a magnificent uppercut which turned Davis over in a back somersault. A cry rose from the crowd as Davis finished the somersault on the back of his neck, his head bent under him and his toes resting on the floor. “Good heavens!” said a voice near me. “That must have broken his neck!” The referee began to count, and Davis still maintained his dangerous and grotesque position. “Pick him up!” the crowd roared. “His neck’s broken!” And it looked as if a tragedy had happened. I saw Kearns step forward to help his fallen opponent, but his handlers shouted for him to keep still. Davis didn’t move, and the count went pitilessly on. As soon as he had ticked off “ten,” the referee rushed in and raised Davis from the canvas. He was still out and his head swung helplessly on his shoulders. His handlers ran into the ring to cries of “Get a doctor!” They carried him to his corner, where a few minutes later he was revived. Half-an-hour later, I was talking to him. He was still slightly dazed, but so far as I could see, really none the worse for his experience. How he escaped severe injury to his neck was a mystery to me. Billy Joh refereed the Boyo Driscoll-Biz Mackey fight and was forced to count over both men at the same time. This extraordinary affair began when the boys were close to the ropes, hammering away at each other’s body. Billy Joh stepped in and separated them. As he did so, the fighters went for each other with everything they had. Both landed with a right to the jaw simultaneously. Driscoll went spinning toward one side of the ring and Mackey toward the other. They were stretched out flat while spectators howled with delight. Mackey was up at “Seven,” swaying like a drunken man. At “nine” Driscoll stumbled to his feet. Each staggered about the ring unable to do any fighting. It was extraordinarily comic. Laughter rocked the house as the men groped blindly to find each other. When eventually their gloves met, they fell into a clinch and remained that way without doing anything to each other until the gong sounded. * * * * *