"Now," said he, "I want to do a little sw'arin' myself, and I want ye to write it."
Yates resumed his pen, and declared himself to be in readiness.
"I solem-ny sw'ar," Jim began, "s'welp me! that I will lick Sam Yates—as is a lawyer—with the privlidge of self-defense—if he ever blows on Benedict—as is not a pauper—no more nor Jim Fenton is—an' I solem-ny sw'ar, s'welp me! that I'll foller 'im till I find 'im, an' lick 'im—with the privlidge of self-defense."
Jim would have been glad to work in the last phrase again, but he seemed to have covered the whole ground, and so inquired whether Yates had got it all down.
Yates replied that he had.
"I'm a goin' to sign that, an' ye can take it along with ye. Swap seats."
Yates rose, and Jim seated himself upon the chest.
"I'm a goin' to sign this, settin' over the Bible. I ain't goin' to take no advantage on ye. Now we're squar'," said he, as he blazoned the document with his coarse and clumsy sign-manual. "Put that in yer pocket, an' keep it for five year."
"Is the business all settled?" inquired Yates.
"Clean," replied Jim.