"I'll learn yew to miscall a free-born American citizen, yew long-ha'red dump-thief," screeched Hank, as they rolled over and he came on top.
But with a desperate effort Ben reversed the positions, and as his horny fingers gripped the other's hairy throat he growled like an angry grizzly.
"You reckon you's ugly, but this child's uglier."
Hank tried hard to gurgle out a suitable retort, but his effort sounded like the choke of a ship's pump. Wildly he clutched at the iron hands on his throat, but in vain; he could not budge them. His breath began to come in short gasps, his face to flush purple beneath the deep tan, and his strength to leave him.
Both watches were now gathered round the two combatants, a ring of excited faces.
The gambler was perched up on the capstan, and as he remarked afterwards in describing the fight to Red Bill, who was all this time waiting to be relieved at the wheel,
"I jest sits back in the peep-chair an' follows the run of the cards, like it were a faro game."
The cockney, his face working with excitement, hopped up and down like a cat on hot bricks, crying out,
"Sock it to 'im, Ben, sock it to 'im! Starboard watch fur ever!"
"Chucks! but Ben has him in one spin o' the wheel," remarked Broncho to the rover. "This here's a freeze-out for Hank; he's beginnin' to unwind melodies o' despair."