He drew forth an old and crumpled envelope, from his breast-pocket, and extracted some papers from its ragged folds which he passed through to the inspector. The latter just cast his eye over the documents and handed them back.
“Them ain't no good!” he said, curtly.
“What's that you're saying?” cried the Irishman. “Sure I've voted on thim same papers every year since 1856, an' niver a man gainsaid me. No good, is it? Huh!”
“Why ain't they no good?” boomed in Abner Beech's deep, angry voice. He had moved back to the window.
“Because they ain't, that's enough!” returned the inspector. “Don't block up the window, there! Others want to vote!”
“I'll have the law on yez!” shouted Hurley. “I'll swear me vote in! I'll—I'll—”
“Aw, shut up, you Mick!” someone called out close by, and then there rose another voice farther back in the group: “Don't let him vote! One Copperhead's enough in Agrippa!”
“I'll have the law—” I heard Hurley begin again, at the top of his voice, and Abner roared out something I could not catch. Then as in a flash the whole cluster of men became one confused whirling tangle of arms and legs, sprawling and wrestling on the ground, and from it rising the repellant sound of blows upon flesh, and a discordant chorus of grunts and curses. Big chunks of icy mud flew through the air, kicked up by the boots of the men as they struggled. I saw the two posts with the board weave under the strain, then give way, some of the embattled group tumbling over them as they fell. It was wholly impossible to guess who was who in this writhing and tossing mass of fighters. I danced up and down in a frenzy of excitement, watching this wild spectacle, and, so I was told years afterward, screaming with all my might and main.
Then all at once there was a mighty upheaval, and a big man half-scrambled, half-hurled himself to his feet. It was Abner, who had wrenched one of the posts bodily from under the others, and swung it now high in air. Some one clutched it, and for the moment stayed its descent, yelling, meanwhile, “Look out! Look out!” as though life itself depended on the volume of his voice.
The ground cleared itself as if by magic. On the instant there was only Abner standing there with the post in his hands, and little Hurley beside him, the lower part of his face covered with blood, and his coat torn half from his back. The others had drawn off, and formed a semicircle just out of reach of the stake, like farm-dogs round a wounded bear at bay. Two or three of them had blood about their heads and necks.