"Shut up your own head, you British blowhard," retorted Shorty, "and mind your own business. Wait until you are a little longer in the country be fore you try to run it. And I don't want no more o' your slack. If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head I'll make you."
The Englishman was just in the mood to be savagely tickled at the prospect of a fight. He had not had a good, square one since he had been in the country, and nothing yet had offered so gratifying as the prospect of polishing off one of the despised "Hamerican sojers." Several of the hated officers had strolled up, attracted by the high words, and it would be an additional pleasure to thrash one of their men before their eyes, in revenge for the slights he felt they had put upon him.
"You won't fight," he said disdainfully, "except with a gun or a knife, like a bloody Dago. Ye dassent put up yer 'ands like a man."
For response, Shorty handed his cap, his gun, his bottle, his blanket-roll, his belt and haversack to Si, rolled up his sleeves, spit on his hands, doubled his fists, and stepped forward into a boxing attitude.
"Balance up to me, you beer-bloated Britisher," he exclaimed, "and git naturalized by a real Star-Spangled Banner lickin' by an artist who kin comb down any man that owes allegiance to Queen Victoree. Here's a Heenan for your Tom Sayers."
The Englishman began disrobing with an alacrity that showed how much his heart was in it. A ring was speedily formed, the officers, mainly Lieutenants and Captains, eagerly assisting, while keeping their eyes over their shoulders to see that no one of much higher rank was in the neighborhood.
When the men confronted one another it was seen that they were a fairly-good match. The English man was stouter and heavier; he showed a splendid forearm, with corresponding swelling muscles near the shoulders, and the way he poised himself and put up his hands revealed that he had "science" as well as strength and courage. Shorty was taller and more spare, but he was quicker and had the longer reach. It looked as if the Englishman had the advantage, from his solid strength and staying power, as well as "science." But those who looked on Shorty as inferior did not know of the training he had received among the turbulent crews of the Mississippi River boats. A man who had summered and wintered with that fractious race had little to learn in any trick or device of fighting.
The first round showed that both were past-masters of ring tactics. Their wardings and layings for openings were so perfect that neither could get a blow in.
When they stopped for a moment to breathe the Englishman said with frank admiration:
"Y're a heap better lot than Hi thort yer. Where'd ye learn to handle yer dukes?"