work, 'n' the crowd begun t' jam up 'n' holler. The big feller he
come et Ray es ef he wus goin' t' cut him in tew. Ray he tuk it
easy 'n' rassled 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 up 'n' carry 'im off luk a baby. Guess the boy see 't he hed a
good many to lick, 'n' hed n't better waste no power a-foolin'.
All t' once thet air low-lived, spindlin', mis'able devil he come
t' the edge o' the platform 'n' helt up his hand. Soon 's they
stopped yellin' he says; 'Gentlemen,' he says, 'sorry t' tell ye
thet the man fer the next bout hes got away. We left him securely
fastened up 'n the fust chamber. Have hed the building searched,
but ain't able t' find him. He must hev gone down the slide. I am
sorry to say we hev no more Yankees. If this man fights any more
it will hev t' be a Britisher thet goes ag'in' 'im. Is there a