Chapter 38 - Page 2

One day his evil genius led him to abuse a rather elderly man belonging
to Hill's mess. As he fired off his tirade of contumely, Hill said with
more than his usual "soft" rusticity:

"Mister--I--don't--think--it--just--right--for--a--young--man--to--call
--an--old--one--such--bad names."

Jack Oliver turned on him savagely.

"Well! may be you want to take it up?"

The grin on Hill's face looked still more verdant, as he answered with
gentle deliberation:

"Well--mister--I--don't--go--around--a--hunting--things--but--I
--ginerally--take--care--of--all--that's--sent--me!"

Jack foamed, but his fiercest bluster could not drive that infantile
smile from Hill's face, nor provoke a change in the calm slowness of his
speech.

It was evident that nothing would do but a battle-royal, and Jack had
sense enough to see that the imperturbable rustic was likely to give him
a job of some difficulty. He went off and came back with his clan, while
Hill's comrades of the One Hundredth gathered around to insure him fair
play. Jack pulled off his coat and vest, rolled up his sleeves, and made
other elaborate preparations for the affray. Hill, without removing a
garment, said, as he surveyed him with a mocking smile:

"Mister--you--seem--to--be--one--of--them--partick-e-ler--fellers."

Jack roared out,

"By ---, I'll make you partickeler before I get through with you. Now,
how shall we settle this? Regular stand-up-and knock-down, or rough and
tumble?"

If anything Hill's face was more vacantly serene, and his tones blander
than ever, as he answered:

"Strike--any--gait--that--suits--you,--Mister;--I guess--I--will--be
--able--to--keep--up--with--you."

They closed. Hill feinted with his left, and as Jack uncovered to guard,
he caught him fairly on the lower left ribs, by a blow from his mighty
right fist, that sounded--as one of the by-standers expressed it--"like
striking a hollow log with a maul."

The color in Jack's face paled. He did not seem to understand how he had
laid himself open to such a pass, and made the same mistake, receiving
again a sounding blow in the short ribs. This taught him nothing,
either, for again he opened his guard in response to a feint, and again
caught a blow on his luckless left, ribs, that drove the blood from his
face and the breath from his body. He reeled back among his supporters
for an instant to breathe. Recovering his wind, be dashed at Hill
feinted strongly with his right, but delivered a terrible kick against
the lower part of the latter's abdomen. Both closed and fought savagely
at half-arm's length for an instant; during which