“Then I begin to get as mad as all wrath, and, sez I:
“ ‘You eternal sheep-stealin’ whiskey-drinkin’, nigger-lammin’, bow-legged, taller-faced rascal, does you want me to tell er lie, by chawin’ up my own words? Ef that’s what you’re arter, jest come on, and I’ll larrup you till your mammy won’t know you from a pile of sassage-meat.’
“So we kep er ridin’ on, and er cussin’ one another worse than two Choctaw Injuns, an’ torectly we cum to the ferry-boat—whar we had to cross the river. Soon as we got thar, Arch he hopped down off’n his ole hoss, an’ commenced shuckin’ hisself fur er fight, an’ I jumped down too. I see the devil was in him as big as er bull, so I begin gritten my teeth, an’ lookin’ at him as spunky as er Dominecker rooster; and now, sez I:
“ ‘Mr. Arch Coony,’ I sed, ‘I’ll make you see sites, an’ the fust thing you know I’ll show them to you.’ Then I pulled off my ole Sunday go-to-meetin’-coat, an’ slammed it down on er stump, and, sez I: ‘Lay thar, ole Methodist, till I learn this ’coon some sense.’
“I soon see thar was gwine to be thar bustinest fight that ever was, so I rolled up my sleeves, an’ Arch rolled up hisn, and we was gwine at at it reglar.
“ ‘Now,’ sez he, ‘ole pra’r-meetin’ pitch in.’
“Well, I jist begin sidelin’ up, an’ he begin sidelin’ up. As soon as I got close ’nuff to him, so I could hit him a go-darter, sez he:
“ ‘Hole on er minnit, this ground’s too rooty; wait till I clear the sticks away from here, so as I can have a fair chance to give it to you good.’
“ ‘Don’t hollar till you’re out’n the woods,’ sez I; ‘p’raps when I’m done you won’t say my preachin’ ain’t nothin’ but hollerin’, I spec.’
“When he’d done scrapen’ off the ground, it looked jist like two bulls had been pawing up the dirt, I give you my word it did.