“Go ahead,” said the other.
“The long and short of my business with him,” said Martin, “was this: I went with him down to the lake, and there I gave him a piece of my mind; and when I had finished, he turned on me and grabbed me with his two hands and chucked me out into the water, just as if I had been a bag of bad meal that he wanted to get rid of. When I got out I was going to fight him, but he advised me not to, and when I took a look at him and remembered the feel of the swing he gave me, I took his advice. Now what did he do to you?”
“He didn’t do nothin’,” said Matlack. “When I got to the little tent he sleeps in, there he was sittin’ in front of it, as smilin’ as a basket of chips, and he bade me good-mornin’ as if I had been a tenant comin’ to pay him his rent; and then he said that before we went on with the business between us, there was some things he would like to show me, and he had ’em all ready. So he steps off to a place a little behind the tent, and there was three great bowlders, whopping big stones, which he said he had brought out of the woods. I could hardly believe him, but there they was. ‘You don’t mean,’ says I, ‘that you are goin’ to fight with stones; because, if you are, you ought to give me a chance to get some,’ and I thought to myself that I would pick up rocks that could be heaved. ‘Oh no,’ says he, with one of them smiles of his—‘oh no; I just want to open our conference with a little gymnastic exhibition.’ And so sayin’, he rolled up his shirt-sleeves—he hadn’t no coat on—and he picked up one of them rocks with both hands, and then he gave it a swing with one hand, like you swing a ten-pin ball, and he sent that rock about thirty feet.
“It nearly took my breath away, for if I had to move such a stone I’d want a wheelbarrow. Then he took another of the rocks and hurled it right on top of the first one, and it came down so hard that it split itself in half. And then he took up the third one, which was the biggest, and threw it nearly as far, but it didn’t hit the others. ‘Now, Mr. Matlack,’ says he, ‘this is the first part of my little programme. I have only one or two more things, and I don’t want to keep you long.’ Then he went and got a hickory sapling that he’d cut down. It was just the trunk part of it, and must have been at least three inches thick. He put the middle of it at the back of his neck, and then he took hold of the two ends with his hands and pulled forward, and, by George! he broke that stick right in half!
“Then says he, ‘Would you mind steppin’ down to the lake?’ I didn’t mind, and went with him, and when we got down to the water there was their boat drawed up on the shore and pretty nigh full of water. ‘Mr. Clyde brought this boat back the other day,’ says he, ‘from a place where he left it some distance down the lake, and I wonder he didn’t sink before he got here. We must try and calk up some of the open seams; but first we’ve got to get the water out of her.’ So sayin’, he squatted down on the ground in front of the boat and took hold of it, one hand on one side of the bow and one on the other, and then he gave a big twist, and just turned the boat clean over, water and all, so that it lay with its bottom up, and the water running down into the lake like a little deluge.
“‘That ought to have been done long ago,’ says he, ‘and I’ll come down after a while and calk it before the sun gets on it.’ Then he walked back to camp as spry as a robin, and then says he, ‘Mr. Matlack, my little exhibition is over, and so we’ll go ahead with the business you proposed.’ I looked around, and says I: ‘Do you find that little tent you sleep in comfortable? It seems to me as if your feet must stick out of it.’ ‘They do,’ says he, ‘and I sometimes throw a blanket over them to keep them dry. But we are goin’ to make different arrangements here. Mr. Clyde and I will bring down his tent after breakfast, and if Mr. Raybold doesn’t choose to occupy it, Mr. Clyde says I may share it with him. At any rate, I’ve engaged to attend to the cookin’ and to things in general in this camp durin’ the rest of the time we stay here.’
“‘And so Mr. Clyde is tired of trespassin’, is he?’ says I. ‘Yes, he is,’ says he; ‘he’s a high-minded young fellow, and doesn’t fancy that sort of thing. Mr. Raybold slept last night in a hammock, and if that suits him, he may keep it up.’ ‘If I was you,’ says I, ‘if he does come back to the camp, I’d make him sleep in that little tent. It would fit him better than it does you.’ ‘Oh no,’ says he, ‘I don’t want to make no trouble. I’m willin’ to sleep anywhere. I’m used to roughin’ it, and I could make myself comfortable in any tent I ever saw.’ ‘Well,’ says I, ‘that was a very pretty exhibition you gave me, and I am much obliged to you, but I must be goin’ over to my camp to help get breakfast.’ ‘If you see Mr. Clyde,’ says he, ‘will you kindly tell him that I will come over and help him with his tent in about an hour?’ To which I said I would, and I left. Now then, hurry up. Them hermits will want their breakfasts.”