“What now?” again cried the man.
“Let me get at him,” roared the butcher.
“No,” screamed Britton. “D—e, let him have fair play. It’s my quarrel, and I’ll smash anybody that interferes.”
All now rose, and a more strange collection of excited faces could scarcely have been seen, than was presented just then at the Chequers in expectation of a serious battle between the smith and his antagonist, who, although not near so stout a man, was fully as tall, and a great deal younger looking than he.
“What do you want here?” said Britton.
“I shall not tell you,” replied the man.
“You can fight?”
“A little.”
“Where I came from,” added Britton, “we wrestle a little.”
“So do we where I came from,” replied the other, calmly.