The Somerset reporter., 1899-04-27

down kerwhollop, Ben ON top.
That's onfair to trip, says | with
my mouth haf full nv dirt an leaves.
Lemme up an fight fair.
ben turned loose, an we riz a-puffin
an ablowin like two young bulls IN The
spring NV the year. Finally / hauled
away an struck Ben a lick under the
chin while he war off n his gyard, an
he reeled back ards then bowin his
neck, he made a rush at me, an | could
see the Ole Scratch in his eyes.
I'VE scuf1led and shnfiled round an
tore up the groun' tell we war both wet
with sweat, an still neither one nv US
didn't have no vantage over t'other.
But | seed that Ben war agittin winded,
an | struck out ag'i in. He lodged, an
| run jam up ag' in the fence. an Ben
fetched me reg lar maulin lick ON the
side NV the head.
THAT made me good an mad. an l
turned round an peeled him one on the
nose that fetched the blood. 'Hoorayr
says l. 'fust blood mine.
"Ben wheeled round, an pasted him
ag'in, but that didn't stop him bit.
He jest come at me with both hans an
we clinched ag'in, an down we went in
a pile an laid thar pantin an clinchin
fur about r mint, when | Thought I'd
give him another trial so | let 60 an
We both staggered to our feet
"'Got noughy' says l.
Not ha'f, says he
DO ye still think ye're the best
man.?
"'I'm better man than ye ever
dared to be, says he.
"'All right, says l. spittin in my
hans, here goes to prove it. an at it
we went ag'in. Ye know Ben 8 arms is
jest leetle but longer'n mine an he
could tech me afore l could git in lick,
when we stood square mp to each other.
So swung round my lief han an Is he
flung out lis right to ketch the lick |
peeled him side Nv the head with my
right an knocked him into the middle
nv the road
He stood thar sorter dazed fur ha f
a mint an then he charged ram sheep
fashion an butted me in the stummiek,
an the lick knocked the breath out n
me As | sorter doubled over from the
lick he struck me a sorter glancin blow
on the head, an | ducked an ketched
him round the middle an flung him
over my head.
Purity good fur you, Bill | hearn
some un say, an, glancin round. | seed
pap settin on the fence agrinnin from
year to year. While had my tention
drawed to the ole man Ben tuck the
vantage nv me an give me lick IN the
burr nv the year that made me see seb-
en- stars.
~ wheeled round an peeled him in
the mouth an knocked two NV has teeth
out. He stopped to spit, when lit into
him fur all he war wo'th. Ye see,
knowed that pap war watchin us, ar
whichever got the wo st NV it d halter
settle with the ole man, Hiram. |
fetched a jump an struck Ben right al
lef', an he went over back ards, but at
be went he carried me with him, an
then felt somethin come down on my
right thumb an knowed Ben had it in
his mouth.
81 tried to jerk loose, but he friz to
that thumb wos't'n one nv these ere
thunder cOoters what don't turn loose
Their grip tell it thunders. | knowed
somethin had to be done, SO | reached
round with my left han an grabbed up
a han full NV sand, an | begun to cram
it into Ben eyes.
i" Ouch" yelled Ben. 'Lemme mp.
I've got nough.
Still think yere the best man I
axed.
=" Lemme mp; I'm satisfied.
$50 let him go, an we both set back
an looked at each other fur bout n
mint, neither one NV us hayin breath
'nough to speak.
i" We haint a'-gwinter set up thar
on the fence any mo an suck yer teeth
at me, says |.
Ben looked sullcn and cowedlike, but
be shuck his head. Then | knowed the
grudge war settled. But We jest orter
aseed us. Ben's nose an lips war
swelled : if he'd be n through yeler
jackets nest. His eyes war bloodshotten,
an his clio rs war nigh bout tore of II
MIN. MY lei eye war clOseu an my
thumb war plumb sight, al my shirt
war ripped clean down to my wais ban,
an thar we sot like two badly bunged
up ROSTERS
3" Git up, ye young raskils, says
pap, AN go down to the branch an wash
yerselyes. Ye amt sich bad grit, ter
all feel ruther proud nv vel Mex
time We wanter try yer spunk jump ON
to somebody what's not in the family.
Hits ag in the rules fur the Forresters
to fight 'mongst each other, an then
he turned an walked off up the road
whistlin his favorite chune when he
feels right good j. It. McVay in St
Louis Globe Democrat.