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"You hate fightin'. This gent Mac Strann likes it; he lives on it; he don't do nothing but wait from day to day hungerin' for a scrap. What's the out? Jest this! You hop on your hoss and ride out with me. Young Jerry Strann kicks out Mac Strann starts lookin' for you he hears that you've beat it he goes off and forgets about you. Ain't that simple?"
"Ah, we blokies kin lick deh hull damn Row," said a child, swaggering. Little Jimmie was striving to stanch the flow of blood from his cut lips. Scowling, he turned upon the speaker. "Ah, where deh hell was yeh when I was doin' all deh fightin?" he demanded. "Youse kids makes me tired." "Ah, go ahn," replied the other argumentatively. Jimmie replied with heavy contempt.
"And I said," broke in Hopkins, "that I guessed folks didn't bother a man with women folks around, and that I kalkilated that I wasn't quite as notorious for fightin' as he was." "And he said," also interrupted Mrs. Hopkins, "and quite in his nat'ral way, too, gloomy like, you remember, Cyrus," appealingly to her husband, "that that was his curse."
England in war-time! I think a lot, you know, on my go; you can't 'elp it the mind will work an' the more I think, the more I see the fightin' spirit in the people. We don't make a fuss about it like Bill Kaser. But you watch a little shopman, one o' those fellows who's had his house bombed; you watch the way he looks at the mess sort of disgusted.
"'From Wem and from Wyche An' from Clive o' the Styche, Good Lord, deliver us. "That's what they thought o' the Bob Clive o' long ago. Well, this Bob Clive now a-sittin' at my elbow be just as desp'rate a fighter, an' thankful let us all be, neebors, as he does his fightin' wi' the black-faced Injuns an' the black-hearted French, an' not the peaceful bide-at-homes o' Market Drayton."
"Say," said Eddie after a moment's silence, "if you get out o' here an' ever go back to the States promise me you'll look up maw and paw an' tell 'em I was comin' home to stay. Tell 'em I died decent, too, will you died like paw was always a-tellin' me my granddad died, fightin' Injuns 'round Fort Dodge somewheres." "Sure," said Billy; "I'll tell 'em. Gee!
What I'd like to do, Professor, instead o' tryin' t' do any fightin' with it, is just t' take th' whole outfit back t' th' States an' make a show of it. I'd get Benito Nichols t' go in with me he's a first-class man, Benito is, an' he's a boss hand as a show manager an' we'd call it 'Th' Aztec Warrior Army an' Circus Combination, an' we'd just rake in th' dollars quicker'n we could count 'em.
"The Plott curs are the best: that is, half hound, half cur though what we-uns calls the cur, in this case, raelly comes from a big furrin dog that I don't rightly know the breed of. Fellers, you can talk as you please about a streak o' the cur spilin' a dog; but I know hit ain't so not for bear fightin' in these mountains, whar you cain't foller up on hossback, but hafter do your own runnin'."
The missus, she can have a room, and the rest of yuh will have to knock some bunks together. Mebby we can clean out the 'ketch-all' and turn that into a bunk house. One I had, it burnt down last winter; some darn-fool Mexicans got to fightin' in there and kicked the lamp over. It could have a new roof put on, I reckon; the walls is there yet.
Henry says the furder on you git in the book, the better it grows, and I conceit the boy may be right; for there be a good deal of murderin' and fightin' in the fore part of the book, that don't make pleasant readin', and what the Lord wanted to put it in fur is a good deal more than a man without book-larnin' can understand.
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