DUDLEY’S FIGHT WITH DR. TWEEZER.
Jim Dudley called again last night, and, as usual, bored me with one of his yarns. I overshot myself by mentioning to him how low he stood in the estimation of Doctor Tweezer, for that brought down the following upon my head:—
“Dr. Tweezer didn’t speak very highly of me, eh! Wal, ’tain’t to be wondered at when you know how I wrought upon his feelin’s once. When a feller has to go around among his patients for more’n two weeks with a beefsteak the size of a hearth rug tied to his face, as he did, he ain’t agwine to hurt himself eulogizin’ the person who set him off,—not much.
“Ever fight? wal, I reckon you’d think so if you had seen the Doctor’s yard arter we got through turnin’ the chips over thar. He can fight, and squirm like a cat with her tail in a tongs, that Dr. Tweezer can.
“You see the Doctor’s place was alongside the widder Gezot’s, and she had a numerous assortment of hens, specimens from cold countries, with feathers clear down to thar toe nails; and others from bilin’ hot districts, with no feathers at all onto ’em, ‘ceptin’ a few downy substitutes frillin’ around the neck. They were continually a-gettin’ into his garden and a sprawlin’ round in the soft beds thar.
“He was pooty mad over it too, for he prided himself on razin’ early vegetables, and two or three times he cautioned her to look arter her p’ultry, or he’d gin ’em a dose that would warm thar little gizzards for em’ if he was any judge of drugs.
“The widder Gezot was a plaguey stirrin’ little woman, one that was allers willin’ to flounder ahead the best way she could. Being myself somewhat interested in the lady, I used to ginnerally chime in when she got into any difficulty.
“She soon told me what Dr. Tweezer said about the hens; so we set in, and poked ’em, and stuck feathers through their bills, and did all we could, except wringing their necks, to keep ’em out of his garden.
“But hens are hens, you know, and the warm sand makes ’em feel mi’ty nice, I reckon. They still managed to git through the fence, or over it, and hold caucuses in the Doctor’s onion beds. One day arter I had bin down town talkin’ politics with the boys thar, I was settin’ on the widder’s door-step smokin’ and musin’ like, when I see her hens come a-rustlin’ hum as though forty hawks were a-stirrin’ ’em up. They p’inted straight for the water trough, and after takin’ about two dips into it, commenced the wildest gymnastic feats you ever see, flip-flopin’ around, stannin’ on thar heads, and then on thar tails. Finally they quieted down, and turnin’ feet up, lay thar dead as the chips around ’em.
“I more than suspected Dr. Tweezer had gin ’em a dose of arsenic or some other mi’ty tellin’ drug. So I jest riz up quietly and took a look over into his yard, and sure enough thar he was, a-staggerin’ and squirmin’ around, a-holdin’ of his sides, and e’enmost a-bustin’ with in’ard laughter. Now this sort of upsot me. Not that I cared so much about the widder’s chickens, but I didn’t like to see a feller so mi’ty tickled over a mean trick. So I went prancin’ around to the Doctor’s yard pooty durned lively, a-pullin’ off my coat as I ran. I cal’lated I couldn’t devote much time to strippin’ arter I got in thar.
GOING FOR THE DOCTOR.
“His back was towards me, and he never suspicioned I was comin’, but stooped over warpin’ around and sort of unwittin’ly invitin’ a kick.
“‘It’s mi’ty funny business, a-pizenin’ chickens, isn’t it?’ I ses, jest that way, and at the same time I gin him such a hoist, that I sent him playin’ leap-frog mor’n fifteen feet, and for a few moments I reckon he thought he had backed up ag’inst a batterin’ ram.
“He was mi’ty cranky though, and turned round quicker than a dog when his tail is trod on.
“‘Dudley,’ he hollered, ‘you meddlin’ ruffian, you’ve invoked the pest, so now look out for scabs,’ and with that he came at me like a cluckin’ hen at a strange dog. I see I was in for a lively time, as the boy said when he upset the bee hive. At it we went, ring and twist, duck and dodge, hop and catch it, round and round the yard like fightin’ turkeys. I could play around him at boxin’ like a cooper round a barrel, but he was grizzly on a hug, and could kick and gouge like a Mississippian.
“He went for my right eye like an Irishman for a ballot box. I’ll be blowed if I didn’t think I’d have to go one eye on it ever arterwards. Several times he had it stickin’ out like a door knob. Finally while he was a-fumblin’ around he accident’ly slipped his finger into my mouth, and I shut down on it mi’ty fast now I can tell you.
“‘Fair play! fair play!’ he hollered, ‘no bitin’.’
“‘Rats!’ ses I, jest that way, ’twixt my teeth, ‘all’s grist that comes to my mill, I reckon,’ and with that I snapped it off at the second jint like a radish. Jest then his wife, hearin’ an unusual rustlin’ and scrapin’ around the yard, come a-runnin’ to the door to see what was up. Woman like, without inquirin’ into the particulars, she took sides to wunst, and started with a dish of hot water cal’latin’ to gin me an alfired scaldin’. Luckily she stumbled over the dog that was a-skelpin’ into the house to git out of harm’s way, and her own young ’un that was crawlin’ around the floor munchin’ dirt got the hottest bath it ever experienced. That gave her somethin’ else to look arter, so that the Doctor and I had it out alone.
“Arter we had bin at it about fifteen minutes we held a sort of informal truce, just arter a simultaneous exchange of compliments, which left the Doctor layin’ across the grindstone and me astride the pump. It was the first chance I had of gittin’ a fair look at him, since we started in. I see he was punished mi’ty bad. One eye was retirin’ from active service pooty fast, while his face ginnerally looked as if he had bin bobbin’ for pennies in a dish of tomato sauce. I reckon he wasn’t aware he presented such an appearance, for ses he:—
“‘You’re lookin’ mi’ty bad, Dudley, and you mout as well gin up now as any time, for you’ll eventually have to holler.’
“‘If I looked one-half as bad as you do, Doctor, I would holler,’ I answered.
“‘I ginnerally have to look about this bad before my blood gits up to a fightin’ heat,’ he ses detarminedly.
“‘Wal,’ ses I, ‘I’ve fit at every election for the last five years, and last Fourth, put the bully mate of Terre Haute into a coal bunker, blind as a bat, and I cal’late no derned pill-mixer is agwine to git away with me very bad.’
“‘You’ll have to be born ag’in before you can whale me, Dudley,’ he shouted, ‘for I’ll fight while there’s enough blood left in me to lunch a stall-fed musketeer.’
“‘We both suck through the same straw then, Doctor,’ ses I, ‘for I cal’late to stick to you like a poor man’s plaster to a beggar’s ribs or I’ll have the worth of the widder’s chickens out on ye,’ and with that I spit out his finger that I had forgot all about, and the hul time had bin chawin’ like a piece of flag-root, I was so burnin’ mad. I allers will think he would have gin up the fight then, if he hadn’t seen me spit out the finger. He looked down at his maimed hand and then at me, and the awful sight seemed to spur him on ag’in.
“‘You cannibal varmint!’ he hollered, as he edged up to me. ‘I’ll make head-cheese of ye!’ and with that he made a pass at me; so at it we went ag’in, hotter than ever, hands up and heads down like fightin’ wasps, round and about, over the goose-house and wheelbarrow spat-a-te-kick, and down into the sink pool roll-et-e-roll, and the hair was a-flyin’ and the teeth war a-spinnin’. I got in a left-handed wipe on his chin while his mouth was open, swarin’, and I made his jaws snap like a wolf trap, and sent one of his molars a-buzzin’ through the kitchen winder like a bullet from a Springfield muskit.
HANDS UP AND HEADS DOWN.
“I never knowed a man could lose so much blood and stand up arter it, until I had that fight with Dr. Tweezer. The blood was a-flyin’ from him every which way, like the water from a sprinklin’ cart, and yet he wouldn’t holler.
“Arter a while he clinched and throwed me, but I managed to turn him, and commenced to shut off his supply of wind by twistin’ his necktie; but jest as his tongue began to crop out promisin’ly, a couple of fellers drivin’ by in a wagon seen us, and they allowed that I was one of the Doctor’s crazy patients that had got the better of him; so they come runnin’ in with a long rope, and set in to tie me up right thar.
“The plaguey Doctor turned in to help ’em do it, too. I cussed, and hollered, and kicked off both boots, and broke two of my teeth a-grittin’ of ’em, I was so consumin’ mad. But it was no go; I was a-playin’ a lone hand, with both bowers and the ace ag’inst me.
“The fust thing I knew they had me tied hand and foot, and h’isted into thar greasy old meat wagon with some dead hogs.
“‘To the lock-up with him,’ shouted the Doctor, jest bilin’ with rage; ‘he’s crazy as a cow with her horns knocked off.’ They took me thar, sure enough, and I staid thar till midnight before the mistake was known. I was pooty well scratched up, but that Dr. Tweezer was the most horrid sight you ever did see.
ALAS! POOR DOCTOR.
“Arter that fight he looked as though he had been the subject in a dissectin’ room, with at least a dozen medical students peelin’ and hackin’ of him in the interests of science. The Doctor allowed that the erysipelas would set in, seein’ thar were so many small veins busted in his face, so he painted it all over with scarlet iodine as a precautionary measure.
“He did look like the very old Nick, and no mistake. His face was fearfully puffed up, you see, and his nose was knocked clear away round to one side. His mouth in particular was a study that a feller couldn’t git familiar with. It was a problem that the more you looked into the more your ideas got confused. It was swelled and twisted and run around, out of all shape and proportion.
“He had the terriblest time you ever heard of gittin’ his victuals into it and fairly started down his throat. Thar he would sit at the table explorin’ about for fully five minutes strivin’ to make the harbor, and when he couldn’t fetch it, he would draw the spoon back and look at it a while, plannin’ another expedition. He knew where his mouth ought to be, you see, and where it had been a few hours before, and to be obliged to canvass the whole of his head to find it, was somethin’ he wasn’t accustomed to.
“It seemed as if he never would git through jabbin’ the spoon about his face, and when he would finally strike the openin’, it would be away round on one side of his head, so much so in fact, that a person would think he was pourin’ the soup into his ear. He would be all hunkadory then durin’ the remainder of that meal, but the next time he would come to the table, the same performance would have to be gone through with.
“He couldn’t keep run of the thing, nohow. It was here to-day and somewhere else to-morrow, like a wrinkle in a shirt.
“The swellin’ kept shiftin’ and undulatin’ about continually, down in one place and up in another, all within an hour, and that would shove the mouth away down along the neck somewhere, or clear across to the other side of the head, perhaps.
“The family would be sittin’ thar eatin’ no more than he was, they would be so busily engaged watchin’ his singular manœuverin’, and it would make him so roarin’ mad that he would send ’em all away from the table.
“He tried to eat by the aid of a small lookin’ glass, but that didn’t work any better than goin’ it blind. When he saw how disfigured every feature was, his appetite would begin to git away from him pooty lively, and he would sling the glass into the corner, and fall to denouncin’ me like a crazy bush-whacker.
“The yard, too, was a sight; everythin’ in it was painted and scratched and painted ag’in.
“Old Mrs. Sharron—who was allers a-smellin’ around about butcherin’ time, on the lookout for a fresh morsel—was gwine by the Doctor’s the next mornin’, and she noticed the blood and ha’r a-stickin’ to the chips and pump handle, and she allowed he had killed his spring pig, so she dropped in to ask him for the ears and a piece of the liver.
“The Doctor thought she was runnin’ him on his late skirmish, and you never see a man fly into such a passion in all your born days.
“He jumped up and pulled his pizen pump out of a drawer, and ses he: ‘You old faded remnant! you scollop! you creasy old cinder of an incendi’ry fire!’ he contin’ed, jest that way, ‘I’ll gin ye jest seven seconds to git out of my house in, or I’ll hoist the gizzard out of ye mi’ty quick!’
“Jehominy! wasn’t she skeered, though? You never see a cat git from under a stove quicker when a pot biles over, than she got out of that house.
“So Dr. Tweezer didn’t speak very highly of me, eh? Wal, now you kind o’ know the reason, don’t ye?”