But neither Harvey nor Bohunkus had any intention of waiting. Before the machine came to a rest, the colored youth leaped to the ground and broke into a run for the man, who held his position.
“Yo’s gwine to larn me something, am yo’? Wal, dis am de time to begin!”
“Sail into him, Bunk!” shouted Harvey, “and if you need any help, I’ll give it!”
“All yo’ got to do am to keep out ob dis bus’ness; I’m running dis funeral,” replied the African, without shifting his gaze from the young farmer, who could not have been much older than Bohunkus. Not once did the latter check his pace, but dashed at full speed at the man. The instant he was within reach, he landed a blow that sent the other spinning backward, with his feet pointing upward and the weapon hurled from his grasp.
It was not a knockout, however, and the fellow was game. He bounded up again as if made of rubber, and charged in turn upon his assailant. Bohunkus had little “science,” but he had been in many bouts, and was as strong as a bull. He braced himself to receive the attack, which came the next instant. A clenched fist landed on his jaw with a force that nearly carried him off his feet, and then the two went at it hammer and tongs, with no apparent advantage at first on either side.
Harvey, seeing that his machine was unharmed, watched the fight. Nothing would have suited him better than to take Bunk’s place, for he had been taught boxing by a professional and he knew, though he might not have been so big or strong as his comrade, that he could readily vanquish the awkward but powerful fighter. Coolness, straight hitting and skilful parrying would do the business. He did not mean to stand idly by and see Bunk maltreated, but it would not be sportsmanlike to break in unless to stop the struggle.
The countryman was tough and wiry, and it is doubtful how the fight would have ended had it depended upon fists alone, but in one respect Bunk was much the other’s superior. He was known as the best wrestler in the neighborhood of his home. When nearly a score of blows had been exchanged, the negro rushed in, grasped his antagonist about the waist, lifted him clear of the ground, and flung him on his back with a violence that it seemed must have jarred his teeth. Before he could spring to his feet again, Bunk was across his chest and evening up things in the most impressive style that can be imagined.
Suddenly the victim shouted at the top of his voice:
“Bill! Sam! Dick! Tom! Hurry up and part us afore we kill each other!”
This was a strange appeal and puzzled Harvey, who was disposed to think it was simply a bluff. The victim was too proud to beg for mercy, and tried to scare off his assailant. Harvey stepped forward, picked up the partially loaded gun from the ground, and with several quick stamps of his shoe so broke the two hammers that the weapon became useless for the time.