We took off the crook’s weapons, and then formed a big ring. The Parson was smilin’ a business-like smile, while the crook was palin’ up noticeable. “I am convinced that a man must settle some things, himself, in a new country,” sez the Parson. “I am larger than you, so it is fair for you to use this club; but I warn you in advance that I understand how to guard again’ clubs, so do your best. I’m ready, begin.”
It was quite eddifyin’ to behold: the crook made a vicious smash at the Parson’s head, the Parson bent his arm at the elbow, muscle out, so the bone wouldn’t get bruised, stepped in, and hit the crook a swing in the short ribs. Some say it lifted him ten feet, some say only eight; but any way, when he lit, he gave a grunt like an empty barrel, and the Parson had no trouble in layin’ him over his knee and givin’ him the most liberal spankin’ with that club I ever was spectator to; while the crowd howled itself hoarse in the throat.
Now the Parson wasn’t angry, he grinned all the way through, and when he had taken as much exercise as he felt was good for him, he set the crook on his feet, and talked fatherly advice to him as sober an’ dignified as was possible—considerin’ the fact that the crook was dancin’ about like a spider on a hot skillet, and rubbin’ the part which had got most intimate with the club.
Eugene had seen it all through his window, and when it was over, he came out and shook the Parson’s hand, and said he was just the kind needed in such an ungodly community, and that he reminded him for all the world of Friar Tuck in Robin Hood. Now, we hadn’t none of us heard of Friar Tuck up to that time; but it was a name well fitted to the tongue, and from the way Eugene said it, we elected it was a compliment; so we gave it to the Singin’ Parson on the spot, and it soaked into his bones, and he hasn’t needed any other since.
This little incident kept us all in a good humor until three o’clock, which was the fatal hour for the squirrel-contest.
Then ol’ man Dort marched to the center o’ the street, carryin’ his cage as though it was full o’ diamonds; an’ Ben Butler sat up an’ chattered as if he was darin’ the whole race o’ squirrels to bring forth his equal.
“I don’t reckon a squirrel could get three times as big as him without explodin’,” sez Spider Kelley, who also had his money on Eugene’s squirrel.
“Here comes Eugene with Columbus,” sez I, not carin’ to waste breath on an opinion I had backed up with good money.
Eugene came down the street carryin’ one end of a box, with Doc Forbes carryin’ the other. The box was covered with a clean apron, an’ Eugene wasn’t lookin’ down in the mouth or discouraged.
“From the size o’ that box, we’re goin’ to have a run for our money,” sez Spider. “If Columbus just looks good enough to make ’em settle by the scales, I haven’t any kick comin’.”