"Oh! I'll show ye how ther howlin' porpoise fights!" Bully Jake roared, endeavoring to get a bite at Fritz's nose. "I'll chaw ye all up like a dish o' hash!"
"Vil, you, dough!" Fritz cried, finally getting his hands free, and clinching them around the bully's throat tightly. "I'll pet yoost a half-dollar you von't do noddings off der kind," and now getting the ruffian under him he gradually shut off his wind.
"Hold on! hold on! no chokin'!—no chokin', I say; it's ag'in' ther moral rules o' fightin'!"
"I don'd vas see id dot vay," Fritz said. "Eider you vas got to ax my parding for assaulting me, or I vil choke off your breathe so you vil haff none to use."
"No choke, I say! Let me up, an' I'll fight ye accordin' ter book."
"Not a let oop!" was the young detective's reply. "Ven you come foolin' around mit der Dutchman you pet your life you get left. Apologize, I dells you, or I turns de throttle, und shuts der sdeam off your logermotiff. I mean pizness—no 'pology, no breathe. Vas you understand?"
The man began to wince as Fritz closed his terrible gripe.
"Oh, let me up, an' we'll call et squar'," the man gurgled.
"Ven you dells me 'I ax your humble parding'—den I let you up!"
"But I won't!"