``That's right, Harry---go it---serve him out,''
resounded on all sides---``tip him the nailer---show
him the mill.''
``Hold your peace all of you, and be ------,'' said
Wakefield; and then addressing his comrade, he
took him by the extended band, with something
alike of respect and defiance. ``Robin,'' he said,
``thou hast used me ill enough this day; but if
you mean, like a frank fellow, to shake hands, and
take a tussle for love on the sod, why I'll forgie
thee, man, and we shall be better friends than
ever.''
``And would it not pe petter to pe cood friends
without more of the matter?'' said Robin; ``we
will be much petter friendships with our panes hale
than proken.''
Harry Wakefield dropped the band of his friend,
or rather threw it from him.
``I did not think I had been keeping company
for three years with a coward.''
``Coward pelongs to none of my name,'' said
Robin, whose eyes began to kindle, but keeping
the command of his temper. ``It was no coward's
legs or hands, Harry Waakfelt, that drew you out
of the fords of Frew, when you was drifting ower
the plack rock, and every eel in the river expected
his share of you.''
``And that is true enough, too,'' said the Englishman,
struck by the appeal.
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