“I ain’t, either, afraid,” you asserted sullenly.
“I wouldn’t let him trip me up that way, you bet,” inspired a friend on your right, boldly.
“An’ call me a liar an’ everything!” added a friend on your left.
Oh, how solicitous of your honor were they who were not to do the fighting!
“He is a liar if he says I tripped him on purpose,” stoutly reiterated Ted, slightly qualifying his former blunt statement.
“You’re another!” you returned. “Anyhow, it looked as if you tripped me on purpose.”
You, likewise, were hedging a mite.
“There! He called you a liar, too!” admonished the circle to Ted.
“Then he’s another, an’ he da’sn’t back it,” responded Ted, grimly performing his duty.
This harmless verbal fencing might have been continued up to the very present, and the ethics of the duello not have been violated, had not some over-zealous enthusiast pushed Ted and you together, with the result that, in fending each other off, you, according to the eager verdict of the highly observant critics, “backed it,” and he hit you, simultaneously; whereupon, not seeing anything else left to do, at each other you went like a couple of jumping-jacks, until (fortunately, you held, for Ted) the approach of the man caused him to be removed from on top of you.