We paid no attention to the crowd, but continued to keep our seats and sip our coffee; but when we saw that Pete was determined to carry off the horse at any rate, we concluded that it was time to interfere in earnest.
The bully had begun to unfasten the halter which held the horse, when Fred and myself rose to our feet. The crowd kept at a respectful distance, for they knew that Bully was a man who did not stop to consider who were for or against him, when in a rage, and that he had been known to discharge a pair of pistols in the midst of a party of friends, if he felt that it was necessary to keep up his reputation for fierceness and decision. Under such circumstances, there is but little cause to wonder why men were not disposed to press forward for the purpose of listening and offering assistance.
As I said before, Pete had begun to untie the halter, and the crowd applauded in approbation of his firmness. He held the strap in one hand, when Fred and myself, followed by Smith at a short distance, reached the spot.
"I have told you once, that you cannot have my horse!" cried Fred, firmly and decidedly; "will you have the extreme goodness to let him alone?"
"Look here, you cussed counter-jumper," roared the bully; "if you utter another word, I'll make you eat the hoss and saddle, and then boot you out of town in the bargain. I'm going to have a ride; so stand aside, and don't interfere with me."
He was walking off with the animal, when Fred laid his hand upon the halter. The ruffian turned suddenly, and aimed a blow at Fred's head that would have crushed his skull, had he not quickly avoided it, and allowed the huge fist to pass within a few inches of his face.
The impetus of the blow turned the bully half round, so that he exactly faced Fred, and for a moment he was off his guard; that opportunity was improved by my friend, who saw his advantage.
Quick as lightning, I saw Fred's right hand raised, and with a "square shoulder hit," such as would have felled an ox, he let it fall full upon Bully's face. I saw the dark blood spurt out from beneath the eye of Pete, and I heard a crunching sound, as though bones were broken; but before I had time to think, the ruffian staggered, swung his arms aloft, and pitched heavily to the earth.
"By G——d, that was a Yankee blow," yelled a rough-looking genius, who had regarded the scene with great composure during the war of words. "Them fellers is Yankees, and my countrymen, and they is going to have fair play if I can get it. Stand back, all of you, and let us have this thing out. Bob," our new ally said, speaking to a friend, "you just run down to the Californe Saloon, and tell the boys a Yankee is in trouble, and needs help; and mind and tell 'um that they needn't stop to draw the charge of their revolvers."
The person addressed as Bob hastened from the spot; but before I could reward our new friend with a word of thanks, Pete, who had lain as if stunned for a few moments, began to show signs of reviving.