“Why, here’s a sneakin’ Nor’wester,” answered Tom, “blowin’ ’bout things, and I’ve made up my mind I won’t stand it;” and he continued his war-like preparations.
“That’s right, Tom, go in and win,” added several voices.
“Gentlemen,” said I, “all I ask is that you shall understand this matter and show fair play—”
“We’ll do that, you!” interrupted several.
“In the first place,” I continued, “I have said nothing against the company in whose service you are. This man, whom you call Tom, accused me of being a member of a rival company; I replied I was not, although I should not be ashamed if such were the case, as I considered the latter as respectable as yours. He avers, however, I have insulted you, and seems determined to avenge it, and I am perfectly willing to gratify him. As I told him, I am not in the service of any company, but am a mere adventurer in these parts. With this explanation I am now ready for any proceeding he may wish.”
“Smash me to nuthin’, ram me down and shoot me, if thar ain’t Jarsey, or I’m a sinner!” exclaimed a familiar voice, and the same instant Bill Biddon stepped into the ring before me. “Give us your paw, Jarsey.”
He grasped my hand and gave a vigorous gripe, while his scarred countenance was dissolved in one great broad smile. It is needless to say I was delighted beyond measure at this unexpected meeting.
“Why, Bill, I little thought to meet you here.”
“And yer’s as what thinks Bill didn’t think so himself.”
During this passage of words between us, the others stood wondering and perplexed. The honest old trapper turned, and seeing Tom standing with his fists still clinched, shouted: