The bully had been brought to bay.
“Gentlemen!” said he, addressing the crowd who had gathered around, “what am I to do? I was driven yesterday to an act I now regret; and here is another man forcing me into a quarrel in the same way. Take my advice,” said he, turning to me, “and leave the house, before my blood gets up.”
“There is not the least danger of your blood getting up,” said I; “your heart’s gone down into your heels. If I was so drunk, as to be just able to keep my legs, no doubt you would have the courage to attack me. You haven’t got it now.”
The greatest coward in the world can be driven to an exhibition of courage—whether sham or real; and Adkins, seeing that he could no longer in California lay claim to the title of a dangerous man, without doing something to deserve it, cried out—
“Damnation! if you want it, you shall have it!”
As the words passed from his lips, I saw him stoop suddenly—at the same time jerking his foot upward from the floor. I divined his intention, which was to draw his bowie out of his boot; and while his leg was still raised, and before he could fairly lay hold of the knife, I dealt him a blow that sent him sprawling upon the floor. The knife flew out of his hand; and, before he could regain his feet, I stepped between him and the place where it was lying.
I have neglected to tell the reader, that I could no longer with propriety be called “The little Rolling Stone,” though Stormy still continued to address me occasionally by that appellation. At the time of this—my last encounter with Adkins—I was six feet without my boots; and was strong and active in proportion. I have called it my last encounter with this ruffian—it was so. Before he was in a position to attack me a second time, I drew my own knife from its sheath; and threw it on the floor alongside his. I did this, to show that I scorned to take any advantage of an unarmed man—as my cowardly opponent had done with poor Stormy Jack. I did not at the moment think of the wrongs Adkins had done to myself—of my imprisonment in a common gaol—of the falsehoods he had told to Mrs Hyland—of his attempt to win Lenore. I thought only of poor Stormy.
Adkins again rushed on me; and was again knocked down. This time he showed a disposition for remaining on the floor—in the hopes that some of his friends might come between us, and declare the fight to be over; but I kicked him, until he again got up, and once more closed with me.
I met the third attack, by picking him up in my arms—until his heels were high in the air, and then I allowed him to fall down again on the crown of his head. He never rose after that fall—his neck was broken.
Before I left the room, every man in it came up and shook hands with me—as they did so, telling me that I had done a good thing.