“He knows I kin lick him,” says Plunk.
“If Mark Tidd wants any fightin’ done he kin do it himself,” says Tallow.
Mark didn’t say anything till Tallow was through spluttering. Then he says: “Jest wait a m-minute till I tell you about it. I’ve got to talk to this Pekoe. It hain’t any easy job to do it, and it won’t be possible if you don’t help. That’s where the f-f-fight comes in. I want you to go back by the barn and start a reg’lar rip-snortin’ rumpus that can be heard to Jericho. It’ll attract Jethro right out of the house to see what’s goin’ on. While he’s gone Binney and I will sneak up-stairs. Rock’ll keep w-w-watch at the foot of the third-floor and make a noise to warn us if Jethro’s comin’. See? You hain’t goin’ to back down on me, be you?”
“No,” says Tallow, “but I wisht you’d find somethin’ for me to do where I wouldn’t get all mussed up. Plunk gets too doggone int’rested when he goes to fightin’. Seems like he don’t know the difference between foolin’ and bein’ in earnest.”
“So much the better,” says Mark. “It’ll look real to Jethro.”
“It’ll look real to Plunk,” says Tallow, short-like, but Plunk just grinned. He sort of liked fights.
Tallow and Plunk went off to the other side of the house like Mark told them. I wished I could have watched the row, because I’ll bet it would have been a bully scrap. The way the fellows looked when we saw them again made me sure of it. Both of ’em looked as if they’d been in a boiler explosion that had blown them into the middle of a cyclone mixed up with an earthquake. It was just my luck.
Mark and Rock and I waited till we heard Plunk shout as loud as he could, “You did say it, too. I heard you. What you mean talkin’ about me like that?”
Tallow yelled right back at him, “I calc’late I kin say what I want to, and if you don’t like it you can lump it.”
“I’ve a notion,” says Plunk, “to hit you so hard your head’ll bust like a bad egg.”