"Why, I thought you had enough?"
"I did have then, but I want more. I said then that I'd never been beaten for long at a time. I've been waiting for you."
"A man don't have to wait for me very long. But say, this is all rank foolishness. I've got nothing against you; and as for what I said about the woman, why, I'm willing to apologize, although I don't know what it was."
"You will apologize, but not till I get through with you. Take off your coat."
"You beat any fellow I ever saw. I don't want to fight; I want to fish."
"I don't want to fish, I want to fight. Take off your coat or I'll knock you down in it."
"All right, my son." He threw his coat on a stump. Milford was in his shirt sleeves. "Wait a moment," said Dorsey. "You have brought this thing about, and I want to tell you that I won't let you off as easy as I did the last time."
They went at it. Dorsey fell sprawling. He scrambled to his feet with trash in his hair and blood in his mouth. Milford knocked him over a stump. He got up again and came forward, cutting the capers of a tricky approach, but Milford caught him with a surprising blow and sent him to grass again. This time he did not get up. He squirmed about on the ground. Milford took him under the arms and lifted him to his knees. "Go away," he muttered, his head drooping. "You've—you've broken my jaw."
Milford ran to the lake and brought water in his hat. Dorsey was sitting up when he returned.
"You've knocked out two of my teeth," he mumbled.