"I have a blanked good
notion to punch your head, too!"
"Oh! I wouldn't do that if I were you," said Cameron, smiling
pleasantly.
"Say, Sam, don't get mad, Sam," interposed Haley. "This young feller's
a friend o' Tim's. I'll git another bottle a' right. I've got the stuff
right here." He pulled out his roll of bills. "And lots more where this
comes from."
"Let me have that, Mr. Haley, I'll get the bottle for you," said
Cameron, reaching out for the bills.
"A' right," said Haley. "Friend o' Tim's, friend o' mine."
"Here, young feller, you're too fresh!" cried the red-faced man,
"buttin' in here! You make tracks, git out! Come, git out, I tell yeh!"
"Give it to him quick," said Sam in a low voice.
The red-faced man, without the slightest warning, swiftly stepped
towards Cameron and, before the latter could defend himself, struck him
a heavy blow. Cameron staggered, fell, and struggled again to his knees.
The red-faced man sprang forward to kick him in the face, when Haley
interposed--
"Hold up there, now! Friend o' Tim's, friend o' mine, ye know!"
"Hurry up," said Sam, closing in on Haley. "Quit fooling. Give 'im the
billy and let's get away!"
But Haley, though unskilled with his hands, was a man of more than
ordinary strength, and he swung his long arms about with such vigour
that neither Sam, who was savagely striking at his head, nor the
red-faced man, who was dancing about waiting for a chance to get in with
the "billy," which he held in his hand, was able to bring the affair to
a finish.
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