As he spoke he was trembling with excessive rage, and his eyes were blazing with the baleful fire which burned within. He was a man of powerful physique, and, when partially intoxicated, was quarrelsome and dangerous; and it was a surprise to those who were present that Flatt, who was a great coward, dared to taunt or provoke him. This could only be accounted for from the fact that the sarcastic words of Morris had so stung him as to throw him off his guard, and he therefore did not manifest his usual discretion when talking with one who had the power to defend himself.
"You just said," continued Morris, "that I allowed my wife to broomstick me and pull my hair, and that I was afraid to go home. Now, you are a liar," he hissed between his teeth, with the vicious venom of a rattlesnake, "and a sneak, and a sponge, and a coward; and if there is any manhood about you, defend yourself." As he said this he sprang at Flatt as a panther might spring on his prey.
There was a terrible scuffle for a moment or two, and several voices shouted in chorus: "Make a ring, and let them fight it out." How strange it is that so many who call themselves men love these brutal exhibitions—especially when they are not principals!
A ring was formed, and the two men, who had fallen on the floor, were tumbling over each other like bulldogs: they were hitting and gouging each other, and all the time swearing most horrible oaths. In fact, they were more like wild beasts than men.
"Enough! enough! For God's sake take him off!" said Flatt. "Take him off, or he'll murder me!" he again groaned out hoarsely, and the blood and foam oozed from his mouth and flew in flakes over his murderous antagonist.
Two or three seized hold of Morris and pulled him off, and it was well they did, for certainly he would have killed the miserable wretch whom he had at his mercy. All his latent ferocity seemed to be aroused, and he would never have stopped short of murder. As it was, he struggled and swore at them who interfered, and endeavored again to assault the half-throttled ruffian whom they had just lifted to his feet.
They took Flatt to another room and washed his face, when it was discovered that both of his eyes were very much discolored, his upper lip split, and his nose so battered that it corresponded with his name. In fact, he had been so changed in a few moments that his most intimate acquaintance would scarcely recognise him.
Morris had come out of the affray with barely a scratch or two. His attack had been so sudden and so ferocious that Flatt, though he was the larger man, had little chance to defend himself.
Joe Porter had been behind the bar when the events which we have described occurred; for the blow he had received had so shaken him as to leave him incapable either of resenting the taunts which he had flung at him by Morris and the others, or of interfering to stop the bloody affray which was the sequel to his own little affair. In fact, he did not have any special anxiety to risk his own precious person again. He, however, managed to signal to his son, a young man who had come in during the melee, and he went for the town constable. It was not long before that personage arrived, but the fight was ended. Porter gave him to understand he would rather no arrests were made; so he sent them to their respective homes, at the same time giving them to understand if he caught either of them engaging in a row again they should not escape so easily.