FOR THE SEAL RIVER BELT
simply, walking back to his corner with a slightly swollen, erratic gait. 'Dam big medicine.'
"One of his henchmen speedily brought him a case bottle of cheap rum, and after swallowing the greater portion of this he began to change his mind a bit and protest that the Seal Shaman overstepped any Methodist by several yards. And cracking his heels together to show he was still in fine fettle, he rushed to drag Tib from his comer. It was at this critical point, sir, that Tib delivered his famous sprocket-wheel swing, the blow that lamed his shoulder for a year.
"For, just as Chuck sank almost to one knee in letting drive his sinewy left, Tib sprang two feet into the air and swung his terrible, battling right in a complete circle and brought it down, palm outward, squarely on top of the astonished, barbarous slugger's thick-thatched cranium, not once, but thrice. The hammer head projected from the fist for an inch. Chuck simply rolled over on his side with one deep groan, and his children howled in horror.
"‘One, two, three,' panted Tib, standing over his foe and accompanying each count-out numeral with a trembling sweep of his fat forefinger.
"‘O wow! ow!' groaned the heathens.
"‘Four, five,' continued Tib, firmly.
"‘O wow! owee! Shaman! O-u-g-h!' wailed
75
