and--er--thy people--(Yawn) So drive on, my rustic Jehu, and Heaven's
blessings prosper thee!

Saying which, Bellew closed his eyes again, sighed plaintively, and once
more composed himself to slumber.

But to drive on, the Waggoner, very evidently, had no mind; instead,
flinging the reins upon the backs of his horses, he climbed down from
his seat, and spitting on his hands, clenched them into fists and shook
them up at the yawning Bellew, one after the other.

"It be enough," said he, "to raise the 'Old Adam' inside o' me to 'ave a
tramper o' the roads a-snoring in my hay,--but I ain't a-going to be
called names, into the bargain. 'Rusty'--I may be, but I reckon I'm good
enough for the likes o' you,--so come on down!" and the Waggoner shook
his fists again.

He was a very square man, was this Waggoner, square of head, square of
jaw, and square of body, with twinkling blue eyes, and a pleasant,
good-natured face; but, just now, the eyes gleamed, and the face was set
grimly, and, altogether, he looked a very ugly opponent.

Therefore Bellew sighed again, stretched himself, and, very reluctantly,
climbed down out of the hay. No sooner was he fairly in the road, than
the Waggoner went for him with a rush, and a whirl of knotted fists. It
was very dusty in that particular spot so that it presently rose in a
cloud, in the midst of which, the battle raged, fast and furious.

And, in a while, the Waggoner, rising out of the ditch, grinned to see
Bellew wiping blood from his face.