"What is your name?" said he.
"Tinker Tim," replied the other gruffly. "I come from Mother Jericho."
[CHAPTER V.]
TINKER TIM.
"'And there were giants on the earth in those days,'" quoth Dan, eyeing the mighty bulk of his visitor. "Can you box, my friend?"
"Try me," said Tinker Tim, putting up his fists.
Here was a polite reception to give a guest. It is not the custom in civilized society for the host to invite the stranger within his gates to a bout of fisticuffs. But this was not polite society, and Dan had retrograded to primevalism. In the days of old, when fighting was hand to hand, and not conducted at long range, men usually commenced their friendships by thrashing one another. Robin Hood is an excellent example of this. In Merry Sherwood he beat the stranger, or the stranger beat him, either with fists or at quarter-staff, and afterwards the combatants fraternized. Each wished to see if the other was a man, before admitting him to his friendship. Dan was of this way of thinking, and eyed his opponent like a fighting-cock.
If there was one thing he loved, it was a bout with the gloves, and Tim was apparently of the same mind. They were quite amicable, and disposed to be friendly with each other, but the friendship had to be cemented with blows and blood. The scent of battle--of friendly battle, to couple incongruous terms--was in the air. Dan was of goodly stature, and ready with his fists. He prided himself on his long reach of arm and quickness of eye. In the parts from which he came, few men cared to stand up to him, for he had been victorious times without number. His victories were so many and so easy that he longed to meet a dogged foe who could hold his own; therefore his mouth watered when he saw the thews and fists of his guest. They were eloquent of a prolonged battle, and Dan promised himself a happy morning.
Tim was a son of Anak, six and a half feet high, and big in proportion. Not an ounce of superfluous flesh on his bones; nothing but tanned hide and swelling muscle. His face was burnt brown by the sun and reddened by the wind; and he wore a bushy black beard, which was slightly streaked with grey. His bold black eyes looked defiance, while the gold rings which adorned his ears added to his already barbaric appearance. A swarthy malcontent he seemed at first sight, a cut-throat of the Spanish main, a piratical desperado; yet, on a closer inspection, his good-humoured smile did away with such bloodthirsty appearances. He, too, counted his victories by the score, and sighed, like Alexander, for fresh worlds or men to conquer. Dan could not have given him a better welcome than that invitation to battle, and his eye sparkled with pleasure at the prospect. Each saw that the other was a man, and wished to decide which was the better. A fit of Berserk fury was on them both.
"Come on, rye," said Tim, eager for the fray. "I'll fight you for a fi'-pun note."