"'Now thar's no error! Which one of you cheap prairie dogs makes that low-flung statement about old Andy Jackson? Let him speak up, an' I'll give him a hundred dollars before devourin' his heart.'
"'No one mentions Jackson,' says Mike, who's becomin' frightened an' fretted; 'whatever's the idee of any one talkin' about Jackson, anyhow?'
"'Oh, ho! Perhaps, my bold galoot, you think old Andy ain't worth talkin' about!'
"Sayin' which, that sorehead malcontent reaches for Mike, an' the two go sailin' 'round the room permiscus. Sorehead picks Mike up, an' sweeps a cord or two of glasswar' off the bar with him. Then he employs him in bringin' down a picture from the wall. After which he nacherally tosses him hither an' yon in the most irrel'vant way.
"Sorehead has jest reached up with Mike, an' smashed a chandelier carryin' fourteen coal-oil lamps, when in t'ars the Lightnin' Bug, white an' frothin'. The Bug don't waste no time lookin' for holds, but casyooally, yet no less s'fficiently, snags onto Sorehead. Fixin' his ten claws in him, the Bug fo'thwith embarks 248 upon sech feats in the way of ground an' lofty tumblin' with that gladiator, as to make what happens to Mike seem pooerile.
"'Don't you-all know,' shouts the Bug, as, havin' done broke a cha'r with Sorehead, he proceeds to deevote what's left of him to smashin' a table––'don't you-all know, you abandoned profligate, that this yere artist you've been maltreatin' is a pers'nal friend of mine, yere present in Red Dog to confab with me on important affairs? An' is it for a houseless sot like you to take to minglin' with him malignant? Yereafter don't you-all so much as presoome to breathe without first gettin' my permission so to do in writin'!'
"As closin' the incident the Bug sends Sorehead hurtlin' through a window, sash an' all. After which he dusts off his hands an' says:
"'Gents, let's licker.'
"The barkeep's that gratified he declar's the drinks is on the Tub.
"'Also, the glass an' sash, Bug,' he adds.