a sufficient mould for
the purpose of the proposed trial of strength.

"Here's as pretty a spot as we mought find on the river," said Robinson,
"and so get ready, friend. Before we begin, I have a word to say. This
here bout is not a thing of my seeking, and I take it to be close akin
to downright tom-foolery, for grown up men to set about thumping and
hammering each other, upon account of a brag of who's best man, or such
like, when the whole univarse is full of occasions for scuffles, and
stands in need of able-bodied fellows, to argufy the pints of right and
wrong, that can't be settled by preachers, or books, or lawyers. I look
upon this here coming out to fight no better than a bit of arrant
nonsense. But, as you will have it, it's no consarn of mine to stop
you."

"You are welcome to do your worst," replied the other, "and the less
preaching you make with it, the more saving of time."

"My worst," interrupted Horse Shoe, "is almost more than I have the
conscience to do to any man who isn't a downright flagratious enemy;
and, once more, I would advise you to think before you draw me into a
fray; you are flustrated, and sot upon a quarrel, and mayhap, you
conjecture that by drawing me out from behind my retrenchments, by which
is signified my good nature, and forcing me to deploy into line and open
field, you'll get the advantage of an old sodger over me; but there, Mr.
Dragoon, you are mistaken. In close garrison or open field, in siege or
sally, crossing a defile or reconnoitring on a broad road, I am not apt
to lose my temper, or strike without seeing where my blow is to hit.
Now, that is all I have to say: so, come on."

"You are not what you seem," said the antagonist, in a state of wonder
at the strain of the sergeant's composed and deliberate speech, and at
the familiarity which this effusion manifested with the details of
military life. "In the devil's name, who are you? But, don't fancy I
pause to begin our fight, for any other reason than that I may know who
I contend with. On the honor of a soldier, I promise you, I will hold
you to your game--man, or imp of hell--I care not. Again, who in the
devil are you?"

"You have hit it," replied Horse Shoe. "My name is Brimstone, I am first
cousin to Belzebub."

"You have served?"

"I have."

"And belong to the army yet?"

"True again; and I am as tough a sodger, and may be I mought say, as old
a sodger as yourself."

"Your hand, fellow soldier. I mi