Then he made a rush at Ephraim, who simply straightened out one of his long arms, permitting the Dutch boy to run against his glove.
With a terrific thump, Hans sat down on the floor.
“Yow!” he cried. “Oxcuse me for dot! I didn’t know you vas lookin’! Uf you hurted mein nose, I didn’t meant to done id.”
The witnesses laughed, and Hans got upon his feet.
“Come on!” invited Ephraim. “Come right at me!”
“I peen goin’ to done dot britty queek, you pets my poots!” declared Hans, as he bounced around the Yankee boy, keeping at a safe distance. “Der nexd dime you hit me, id vill pe mit you faces mein fist on. Yaw!”
“Brace up to him, ye Dutch chaze!” urged Barney, who began to itch all over at the sight of anything resembling a “scrap.” “Don’t let th’ long-legged farmer be afther froightenin’ yez.”
“Who vos frightened?” demanded Hans. “He don’d peen afraidt uf me. I vas goin’ to shown him a trick vot I nefer seen. Here id vas, py shimminy!”
Then he made another rush at Ephraim, who thrust out his fist once more, expecting the Dutch lad to run against it. But Hans had not forgotten what happened the first time, and he dodged under Ephraim’s glove, and gave the Yankee lad a terrific thump just below the belt.
With a howl, Ephraim doubled up like a jackknife, holding both hands to his abdomen and turning purple in the face.