“Do you hear that, I say?” he called out, without regarding my words. “Here’s a sneaking Nor’wester cracking up his party afore us.”
I was so provoked that I made no reply or noticed him. His words attracted their attention, and, anxious to see the trouble, they gathered round.
“What’s up?” demanded a stumpy fellow, pushing his head in between the others.
“A fight! a fight!”
“Make a ring for ’em.”
“Blow me, if he don’t look like one o’ them Nor’westers as sent Governor Semple out the world.[6] Go in, Tom!”
“I’ll maul him as soon as I get in fightin’ order,” said Tom—he of my first acquaintance.
Matters were now getting serious. A collision between the redoubtable Tom and myself seemed unavoidable. His impudent bravado and insults had roused me somewhat, and I made up my mind that I should withdraw nothing I had uttered, and bear none of his insolence.
“What’s the row?” demanded another; “I don’t understand it.”