"Hm-m-m! Did he feel it?"
"Did he feel it?" scoffed the fat boy pompously. "Why, sir, I knocked him down. He dropped right down on his front legs."
"I'd hate to have you hit me a punch with that fist of yours, young man," declared Patsey with a slow shake of the head.
"As I was saying, we had it hammer and tongs all over the place. I hit him on his big nose until it was sore. Did you ever see a moose with a nose-bleed?"
Patsey shook his head.
"Then you ought to have seen this fellow. I had him groggy after a while. I just played with him; then, when I got him where I wanted him, I let him have it."
"With your fist?"
"No, with my knife. I just cut him. I nearly cut his head off the first swish of the knife. He's out there now if you want to look at him."
A moment of silence followed Stacy's pompous announcement, the faces of the party wearing solemn expressions.
"I reckon you'd better come along to town with me, Cale," said Patsey, by way of changing the subject.