lagoon, to dart into the centre of the expanse, and challenge the whole
field to combat. He roars, he blows the water from his nostrils, he
lashes it with his tail, he whirls round and round, churning the water
into foam; until, having worked himself into a proper fury, he darts back
again to the shore, to seek an antagonist. Had the gallant captain of
horse-thieves boasted the blood, as he afterwards did the name, of an
"alligator half-breed," he could have scarce conducted himself in a way
more worthy of his parentage. He leaped into the centre of the throng,
where, having found elbow-room for his purpose, he performed the gyration
mentioned before, following it up by other feats expressive of his
hostile humour. He flapped his wings and crowed, until every chanticleer
in the settlement replied to the note of battle; he snorted and neighed
like a horse; he bellowed like a bull; he barked like a dog; he yelled
like an Indian; he whined like a panther; he howled like a wolf; until
one would have thought he was a living managerie, comprising within his
single body the spirit of every animal noted for its love of conflict.
Then, not content with such a display of readiness to fight the field,
he darted from the centre of the area allowed him for his exercise,
and invited the lookers-on individually to battle. "Whar's your
buffalo-bull," he cried, "to cross horns with the roarer of Salt River?
Whar's your full-blood colt that can shake a saddle off? h'yar's an old
nag can kick off the top of a buck-eye! Whar's your cat of the Knobs?
your wolf of the Rolling Prairies? h'yar's the old brown b'ar can claw
the bark off a gum tree! H'yar's a man for you, Tom Bruce! Same to you,
Sim Roberts! to you, Jimmy Big-nose! to you, and to you, and to you!
Ar'n't I a ring-tailed squealer? Can go down Salt on my back, and swim up
the Ohio! Whar's the man to fight Roaring Ralph Stackpole?"

Now, whether it happened that there were none present inclined to a
contest with such a champion, or whether it was that the young men looked