At length their aged blood began to circulate more briskly, under the combined influence of the warm fire, milk punch, and old associations.
“Uncle Sam,” said Smullen, “what do you say to me and you trying a fall; we’ve had hold of one another afore to day?”
“Agreed,” was the reply; “but it must be at arm’s length. I’ve had the rheumatics so much that my back’s got kinder shackly.”
The young people laughed till the tears ran down their cheeks as they stepped into the ring, their upper garments removed, heads bare, and the white locks flowing round their shoulders. Uncle Yelf, producing his snuff-box,—a sheep’s bladder,—after taking a pinch, offered it to Smullen, and the contest began.
They exhausted every feint known to the art, and it was soon evident to the young people that these veterans possessed a skill unknown to them, and that it was only in the strength of youth they were lacking.
Beside them was an elm, that separated at the root into two parts. Between the forks Smullen threw Yelf with such force, that he was firmly-wedged, and had to be pulled out.
“Well,” said Uncle Sam, “he ought to throw me; he’s the oldest.”
Just before sunset they took leave of Ben, and, with hearty cheers, made sail.
It was a current saying, in respect to Uncle Isaac, that he could keep more men at work, bring more to pass, with less fuss, and have everybody good-natured, than any man in the district; and nobly had he justified the general verdict.