VAN WINKLE, WITH A VARIATION

New Zealand Times, Volume XXX, Issue 4553, 23 October 1875, Page 2 (Supplement)

VAN WINKLE, WITH A VARIATION

(From the Vicksburg, Miss., Herald.)

A gentleman residing in this city had occasion a few days since to take a journey down the river and several miles back of it, using a saddle-horse. Darkness overtook him in a sparsely settled district, and as the roads were in a bad condition and the evening looked threatening, he halted before a forlorn looking hut, and asked if he could find lodgings. “ I reckon ye mought,” replied the longhaired, sorrowful-eyed squatter, after hesitating a moment.

The Yieksburger found little to eat, and his horse found still less. The squatter and his wife were all alone, and they had but a few words for the stranger, and scarcely spoke to each other. When the ever ing grew old, the traveller camped down on the floor on a blanket, and being very tired he fell asleep, while host and hostess were smoking their clay pipes at the other end of the room. He had slept about two hours, when the squatter shook him by the shoulder and said: “ Stranger, Pm powerful sorry to disturb ye, but I want to ax a favor.” “ Yes —yes what is it ?” inquired < the Yieksburger, as he rubbed his eyes aud sat up. “Ye like to see fa’r play, don't ye, stranger ?” “ Yes, of course.” “ Wall, me’n the old woman oau’t agree ; somehow, she’s cross and tetchy, and X guess Pm a trifle ugly. Leastwise, we don’t hug up worth old boots. We’ve fit and fit ; I’m ole, and she’s chuck full o’ grit, and its about an, even thing.” • . “ Well, I’m sorry,” put in the Yieksburger, as the squatter hesitated. ’ : “ We’ve been a-talkiu’ since yo cum, stranger, and we’ve made up to ask ye to hold the candle and to let us go in for an old rouser of a fight—a reg’lar sockdolager—which shall settle our fuss. If I lick, she’ll go ;if she licks, I’ll travel.” “ I’m sorry if there’s any trouble, and hope you won’t fight.” “ We’ve got to do it, stranger,” replied the woman. ” I won’t live with a man who kin lick me, and he’s just as high-born. Sam’s as good as the run o’ men, but he’s lazy and sassy, and he wants to wear his hat on his ear !” “ She’s right, stranger,” said the squatter ; “and this cabin can’t hold both of us any longer. It's to be a squar’ fight—no kicking or clubbing, and we won’t go back on yer decision.”

The Vicksburger protested, but the woman placed a lighted caudle in his hand, and posted him in the door, and the man stepped out on the ground. “ Suke, I’m going to wallop ye right smart in just four hoots and a holler !” said the squatter, as he pushed up his sleeves. “ Sam, ye don't weigh 'nuff into three tons !” she replied in a grim voice, and the battle commenced.

The Vicksburger mentally bet twenty to one on the man at the start, but in two minutes he had reduced the odds to ten, and in two minutes more he was betting even. Ihe wife was like a wild cat ; springing, dodging, striking, and clawing, and pretty soon her husband had to stand on'the defensive. “Look out for the Bengal tiger, Suke !” he warned as he clawed the air. “I can whip the boots olfn ye, Sam ! she replied, and the battle grew fierce. One of the woman’s sharp nails struck the husband’s eye, and blinded him for an instant. As he threw up his arms she seized both her hands into his hair, yanked him down, and in another moment had the “ gouge ” on him. “ Sam, do ye cave?” she asked as they lay quiet. i “ That’s the dead-wood, Suke, and I m a licked man !” he mournfully answered. She let him up, and he turned to the Vicksburger and inquired : “Stranger, was it a fa’r fought?” “ I guess it was.” “ Then I travel !”

He entered the hut, put on his coat and hat, took up his rifle, and as he came out he reached his hand to his wife, and said ; “ Good-by, .Suke 1 We agreed fa’r and squar’, and here Igo !” Then turning to the traveller, he added : “ Much obleeged, stranger; yo held the candle plump fa’r, and yo didn't holler for either one of us !” And he walked down to the fence, leaped over, and was soon lost to sight. “Good ’nuff on the shoot,” mused the wife, as she gazed after him, “ but his fightin’ weight is clar down to nothin’ !”