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Updated: May 29, 2025
Then Little-Boy tore open his portfolio with frantic haste; from the portfolio he drew out a pen-case, from the pen-case a pen-holder, which all at once he began jabbing into the hand of Long-Shanks that held his brother prisoner. "Clever lad!" said the colonel to himself. "Fine lad!" His red eyes fairly gleamed with delight. The affair was now becoming too hot for Long-Shanks.
Something was working under McHurdie's belt, for Bob could hear it chuckling as he chewed: "Wasn't she a buster? It's funny, ain't it the way we all pick big ones we sawed-offs"? The laugh came a quiet, repressed gurgle, and he added: "Yes by hen, and you long-shanks always pick little dominickers. Eh?" He chewed a meditative cud before venturing, "That's what I told her comin' home to-night."
Little-Boy dodged, and the same instant Long-Shanks got a second blow, this time on the head, that sent his cap flying. Nevertheless, he still kept his prisoner held in the trap and fast by the right hand.
His hat had flown from his head, his curly hair clung round his fine, deathly pale face, out of which his eyes fairly burned; the portfolio with all its contents was lying on the ground over cap, portfolio and all he went for the anatomy of Long-Shanks.
Yet do I grieve and sigh therefore, O doleful long-shanks? Not so fie on't! I blow away my sorrows through the music of this my little pipe and, lying here, set my wits a-dancing and lo! I am a duke, a king, a very god! I create me a world wherein is neither hunger nor stripes, a world of joy and laughter, for, blessed within his dreams, even a fool may walk with gods and juggle with the stars!"
At once Long-Shanks stopped too, and the two brothers broke out into derisive laughter. They were now standing directly under the window at which the old colonel was sitting. He leaned out. "Bravo, youngster!" said he, "you are a plucky one here drink this on the strength of it." He had taken up the tumbler and was holding it out of the window toward Little-Boy.
Long-Shanks showed an ugly grin, behind which he tried to hide the shame of his defeat; Little-Boy, with fists still doubled, followed every one of his movements with blazing eyes, ready at a moment to spring once more upon the enemy should the latter renew the attack. But Long-Shanks did not advance again; he had had enough.
We must have Reilly here, and you must endeavor to convert him from Popery. If you succeed, I'll give long-shanks his nunc dimittis, and send him home on a trot." "Papa," she replied, "this will be useless it will be ruin I know Reilly." "The devil you do! When, may I ask, did you become acquainted?"
Long-Shanks at last threw off Little-Boy, took two steps backward and picked up his cap from the ground. The fight was drawing to a finish. Panting and out of breath, the three stood looking at one another.
When Jarl Ragnvald of Maeri, the first of the Orkney jarls, was killed in Norway by two of Harald Harfagr's sons, one of them, Halfdan Halegg or Long-shanks fled from their father's vengeance to Orkney.
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