THE CAT'S HOLIDAY
and biceps, gave a muted whistle. "Say, if you get a good crack at that feller, he won't think no goose kicked him, will he?"
The grizzled singer and the Scots engineer approached with ceremony, to propose themselves as referees. Scarlett, his thoughts flying forward to the ship and Laura, nodded assent to their terms.
"Make it a short bout," he stipulated.
From the other corner, his foe nodded, half-friendly and half-scornful. His face and neck, ruddy as briar-root, reared from shoulders of knotted ivory.
"Right-oh!" he laughed. "It'll be short enough, guvnor."
The man from Salem, tying to Scarlett's wrists a pair of dark, malodorous gloves, whispered excitedly: "Don't you mind him. I've seen his work—'tain't so much slugger … strong as a bullock …
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