``A ring, a ring!'' was now shouted, until the
dark rafters, and the hams that hung on them,
trembled again, and the very platters on the _bink_
clattered against each other. ``Well done, Harry''
---``Give it him home Harry''---``Take care of
him now-he sees his own blood!''
Such were the exclamations, while the Highlander,
starting from the ground, all his coldness and
caution lost in frantic rage, sprung at his antagonist
with the fury, the activity, and the vindictive
purpose of an incensed tiger-cat. But when could
rage encounter science and temper? Robin Oig
again went down in the unequal contest; and as
the blow was necessarily a severe one, he lay motionless
on the floor of the kitchen. The landlady
ran to ofter some aid, but Mr Fleecebumpkin would
not permit her to approach.
``Let him alone,'' he said, ``he will come to
within time, and come up to the scratch again. He
has not got half his broth vet.''
``He has got all I mean to give him, though,''
said his antagonist, whose heart began to relent
towards his old associate; ``and I would rather by
half give the rest to yourself, Mr Fleecebumpkin,
for you pretend to know a thing or two, and Robin
had not art enough even to peel before setting to,
but fought with his plaid dangling about him.
Pages:
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375