Page:Bacheller--D'ri and I.djvu/220

the sword of the big chap round 'n' round es ef it wus tied t' hisn. Fust I knew he med a quick lunge 'n' pricked 'im 'n the arm. Big chap wus a leetle shy then. Did n't come up t' the scratch es smart 'n' sassy es he'd orter. Ray he went efter 'im hammer 'n' tongs. Thet air long slim waist o' hisn swayed 'n' bent luk a stalk o' barley. He did luk joemightyful han'some—wish 't ye c'u'd 'a' seen 'im thet air night. Hair wus jest es shiny es gold 'n the light o' them candles. He 'd feint, an' t' other 'd dodge. Judas Priest! seemed so he put the p'int o' the sword all over thet air big cuss. C'u'd 'a' killed 'im a dozen times, but I see he did n't want t' dew it. Kep' prickin' 'im ev'ry lunge 'n' druv 'im off the boards—tumbled 'im head over heels int' the crowd. Them air devils threw up their hats 'n' stomped 'n' hollered powerful, es ef 't were mighty fun t' see a man cut t' pieces. Wall, they tuk up another man, quicker 'n the fust, but he wa'n' nowhere near s' big 'n' cordy. Wa'n't only one crack o' the swords in thet air fight. Could n't hardly say Jack Robinson 'fore the cuss hed fell. Ray hurt him bad, I guess, for they hed t' pick 'im