'I guess I got you this time,' said Nabb. 'I guess so too,' said
Bill, 'but I wish you wouldn't lay so plaguy heavy on me; jist turn
over, that's a good fellow, will you?' With that Bill lays his arm
on him to raise him up, for he said he was squeezed as flat as a
pancake, and afore Nabb knew where he was, Bill rolled him right over
and was atop of him. Then he seized him by the throat, and twisted
his pipe till his eyes were as big as saucers, and his tongue grew
six inches longer, while he kept making faces for all the world like
the pirate that was hanged on Monument Hill at Boston. It was pretty
near over with him, when Nabb thought of his spurs; so he just curled
up both heels, and drove the spurs right into him; he let him have it
jist below his crupper. As Bill was naked he had a fair chance, and
he ragged him like the leaf of a book cut open with your finger. At
last, Bill could stand it no longer; he let go his hold and roared
like a bull, and clapping both hands ahind him, he out of the door
like a shot. If it hadn't been for them 'ere spurs, I guess Bill
would have saved the hangman a job of Nabb that time."
The Clockmaker was an observing man, and equally communicative.
Nothing escaped his notice; he knew everybody's genealogy, history
and means, and like a driver of an English stage-coach, was not
unwilling to impart what he knew.
Pages:
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50