k, and keep 'em out of each other's
way; but in _my_ time there was a scrimmage nearly every week, though
nothin' like this 'un I'm tellin' of.

Well, sir, I'd knocked off early that evenin', and strolled back to my
place with a young Rooshan merchant as I knowed--a right good feller,
name o' Michael Feodoroff. Just at the bridge we stopped to have a look
at the sunset; and a rare sight it was! There was the dark-red tower of
the old Tartar gateway standin' out ag'in the bright evenin' sky, and
the citadel-wall with all its turrets and battlements, and the gilt
cupolers o' the churches in the town, and the great green plain of the
Volga away below us, and the broad river itself a-shinin' wherever the
light fell on it, and the purple hills beyond tipped with gold every
here and there, jist like them Delectable Mountains as mother used to
read about on Sundays when I was a boy.

While we were standin' lookin' at it up comes half a dozen Rooshan
workmen, a-goin' home from their work, and four or five Tartars from
t'other side, a-goin' home from _theirn_; and they meets jist on the
bridge. As they crossed each other one o' the Rooshans pulls a bit o'
sassage out of his pocket and holds it up to the foremost Tartar (a
great ugly-lookin' bruiser with one eye), and says to him, chaffin'
like, "Hollo, Mourad! d'ye want a bit o' grease to make yer beard grow?"

Now, I needn't tell _you_ that offerin' pork to a Mussulman is like
drinkin' Dutch William's health at an Irish fair; and the words warn't
well out o' the Rooshan's mouth afore the Tartar had him by the throat
and was bangin' his head ag'in' the bridge-rails as if he was drivin' a
nail with it.

Then, all in one minute, a whole crowd of 'em seemed to start up out o'
the werry earth, and we found ourselves right in the middle of a reg'lar
tearin' fight--tossin' arms and fierce faces whirlin' all round us; men
strikin' and grapplin' and clawin' like fury; the broad, bearded faces
of the Rooshans and the flat sallow mugs of the Tartars all blurred up
together; and sich a yellin' and cursin' and screechin' a-goin' on that
I a'most thought myself one o' them old Roman hemperors a-lookin' on at
a wild-beast fight in the Call-and-see-'em.

I was so took aback that I jist stood and stared like a fool; but
Feodoroff had his wits about him, and dragged me into a corner where we
could see it all without bein' swep' in. I saw d'reckly that it was more
than a plain bout o' fistic