Me a-layin' 'wake
nights and workin' up my theory, and calculatin' on lettin' you in, and
you a-snorin' and Frona-this and Frona-that--"
"That'll do! Stop it!"
"The hell it will! If I didn't know more about gold-mining than you do
about courtin'--"
Corliss sprang at him, but Del dodged to one side and put up his fists.
Then he ducked a wild right and left swing and side-stepped his way
into firmer footing on the hard trail.
"Hold on a moment," he cried, as Corliss made to come at him again.
"Just a second. If I lick you, will you come up the hillside with me?"
"Yes."
"And if I don't, you can fire me. That's fair. Come on."
Vance had no show whatever, as Del well knew, who played with him,
feinting, attacking, retreating, dazzling, and disappearing every now
and again out of his field of vision in a most exasperating way. As
Vance speedily discovered, he possessed very little correlation between
mind and body, and the next thing he discovered was that he was lying
in the snow and slowly coming back to his senses.
"How--how did you do it?" he stammered to the pocket-miner, who had his
head on his knee and was rubbing his forehead with snow.
"Oh, you'll do!" Del laughed, helping him limply to his feet. "You're
the right stuff. I'll show you some time. You've got lots to learn
yet what you won't find in books.
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