"Come on!" he cried, boisterously, forming a ring by the simple
process of sweeping his blade from side to side, while he made
the dagger in his left hand flash round his head. "Who is for
the game? Who will strike a blow for the little Admiral? Will
you come one, two, three at once; or all together? Anyway, come
on, you--" And he closed his challenge with a volley of frightful
oaths, directed at the group opposite.
"It is no quarrel of yours," said the big man, sulkily; making no
show of drawing his sword, but rather drawing back himself.
"All quarrels are my quarrels! and no quarrels are your
quarrels. That is about the truth, I fancy!" was the smart
retort; which our champion rendered more emphatic by a playful
lunge that caused the big bully to skip again.
There was a loud laugh at this, even among the enemy's backers.
"Bah, the great pig!" ejaculated the girl above. "Spit him!"
and she spat down on the whilom Hector--who made no great figure
now.
"Shall I bring you a slice of him, my dear?" asked my rakehelly
friend, looking up and making his sword play round the shrinking
wretch.
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