“I didn’t see nothing of Arch from that time till about er month. Every time I went down to Sartatia to buy ennything—er barrel of whiskey, or backer, or sich like truck, for privit use—I looked for Arch, an’ Arch looked for me, but somehow or tother he never crossed my path.
“At last one day I sent him word I beleeved he was skeered of me, and the fust chance I got I would take the starch out’n him as sure as shooting; and he sent word back to me that was a game two could play at, and when I wanted to try it, he’d see if he couldn’t help me.
“Well, things went on that way for er long time, an’ I didn’t see nothing of Arch, so I begin to forgit all ’bout him. At last one day, when me and two or three other chaps was gwine down to Big Black River to go bar-hunting on t’other side of it, I hearn the darndest clatter-whacking, and noise in the road behind us; and when I turned round to see what in the name of thunder it was, thar was Arch and a whole lot of fellers cummin’ down the road, er galloping full tilt right up to us, an’ er gwine bar-huntin’ too.
“When I seed him I was so mad I thought I should er burst myself.
“ ‘Now, Mr. Arch, I’ve got you, and if you don’t keep your eye skin’d, I’ll lick you till your hide won’t hold shucks.’
“Toreckly, Arch he cum up alongside, and looked me right plum in the face as savage as er meat-axe; and sez he:
“ ‘Good mornin’ ole Preach, give us your paw.’
“I see thar was mischief in him as big as a meetin’-house, and I ’termined to give him as good as he sent, so I looked at him sorter savigerous like, and sez I:
“ ‘Look here, hoss, how can you have the face to talk to me, arter saying what you sed?’
“ ‘Why,’ sez he, ‘Uncle Mike, didn’t you begin it?’