A BAR-ROOM SETTLEMENT OF A MISUNDERSTANDING.
After Porter had been lifted to his feet, and had completely
regained consciousness, he poured out a volley of oaths and foul
expletives, and swore dire vengeance against Ashton and the
unknown stranger who had championed his cause.
"I'll meet that fellow again," he said; "and when I do, I'll pay
him with interest--you'll see if I don't; and if that drunken
fool, Ashton ever enters this place again, I'll pitch him out
quicker than he comes in. I have it in for him for giving me away
to Old Service, and then swearing against me at the trial. Before
long I'll get even with him for both."
"If you were to throw him out, Porter, it might be worse for you
and better for him," said Stewart. "If Ashton had all the money he
has left with you, I guess he would be willing to be put out--and
stay out, too. I know it would have been a good thing for me if
you, and others like you, had turned me out long ago, and never
let me in again."
"I guess, Porter," said Morris, banteringly, "you'll not be in a
hurry to meet that young chap again, for, as Tremaine said, 'his
blow was like the kick of a horse.' Why, man, he knocked you as
clean off your pins as if you had been a skittle! and I'll lay you
any amount that he would use you up in five minutes. Don't you
think he would, boys?"
Some of the boys to whom the question was referred said they
thought he would, while others expressed a different opinion.
Among the latter were two or three who were anxious to curry favor
with Porter.
There are hangers-on at almost every groggery, who loaf around,
day after day, for the purpose of what, in slang terms, is called
"spunging,"--that is, they are either not able or not willing to
pay for liquor themselves, and therefore sit waiting to be asked
to drink by any customer who comes in and is willing to "stand
treat." Of course it is to the interest of such creatures as those
to be on good terms with the landlord--for it is only by his
tolerance they can so cheaply indulge their bibulous propensities.
There were some of this class present when Morris asked his
question, and they, of course, expressed the opinion that Porter,
if he only had fair play, would be more than a match for his late
antagonist, who, they said, had taken him at a disadvantage.
"I'd bet on Porter every time," said a burly loafer by the name of
Tom Flatt, "if he only had a fair show. I'd liked to see him try
it, at any rate."
"O you would, would you?" said Morris, in a sarcastic, rasping
tone; "I believe that, but you would take care not to get into
anything of the kind yourself. I never knew a man who was more
careful of his own precious carcase. Now, let me tell you, I
believe that fellow would clean you both out so suddenly you would
be whipped before you knew it."
"That's so," said Stewart. "Why, he was quick as a streak of forked
lightning."
"If I were you, Morris," said Flatt, "I'd shut up. A man who lets
his wife lick 'un, and is afeared to go home because she'd pull
his hair or broomstick 'un, shouldn't talk to other men about
being cowards. I'd like to see my wife touch me."
As he spoke about his wife beating him, he doubled his ponderous
fist and assumed a fierce look, which would lead one to conclude
he would be a perfect hero under such circumstances.
What enabled Flatt thus to taunt Morris was the fact that one
night the latter had come home frenzied with drink, and was very
abusive to his wife and children. Indeed, he became almost
uncontrollable, and began to smash up the furniture, when his
eldest son, with the assistance of his mother, watching his
opportunity, had overpowered and bound him. The story in some
manner had leaked out, and the present occasion was not the first
time he had been twitted about it.
"We know all about thee, Tom," said Tremaine, in answer to Flatt.
He lived next door to him, and therefore understood the relation
in which he stood to his family better than any one else did.
"Thou art brave as a lion when thee's got that little wife of
thine to thump, but thee's not so valiant when there are men
around."
Morris now stepped forward and said: "Don't say a word, Tremaine.
I want myself to settle this score with Flatt."
As he spoke he was trembling with excessive rage, and his eyes
were blazing with the baleful fire which burned within. He was a
man of powerful physique, and, when partially intoxicated, was
quarrelsome and dangerous; and it was a surprise to those who were
present that Flatt, who was a great coward, dared to taunt or
provoke him. This could only be accounted for from the fact that
the sarcastic words of Morris had so stung him as to throw him off
his guard, and he therefore did not manifest his usual discretion
when talking with one who had the power to defend himself.
"You just said," continued Morris, "that I allowed my wife to
broomstick me and pull my hair, and that I was afraid to go home.
Now, you are a liar," he hissed between his teeth, with the
vicious venom of a rattlesnake, "and a sneak, and a sponge, and a
coward; and if there is any manhood about you, defend yourself."
As he said this he sprang at Flatt as a panther might spring on
his prey.
There was a terrible scuffle for a moment or two, and several
voices shouted in chorus: "Make a ring, and let them fight it
out." How strange it is that so many who call themselves men love
these brutal exhibitions--especially when they are not principals!
A ring was formed, and the two men, who had fallen on the floor,
were tumbling over each other like bulldogs: they were hitting and
gouging each other, and all the time swearing most horrible oaths.
In fact, they were more like wild beasts than men.
"Enough! enough! For God's sake take him off!" said Flatt. "Take
him off, or he'll murder me!" he again groaned out hoarsely, and
the blood and foam oozed from his mouth and flew in flakes over
his murderous antagonist.
Two or three seized hold of Morris and pulled him off, and it was
well they did, for certainly he would have killed the miserable
wretch whom he had at his mercy. All his latent ferocity seemed to
be aroused, and he would never have stopped short of murder. As it
was, he struggled and swore at them who interfered, and endeavored
again to assault the half-throttled ruffian whom they had just
lifted to his feet.
They took Flatt to another room and washed his face, when it was
discovered that both of his eyes were very much discolored, his
upper lip split, and his nose so battered that it corresponded
with his name. In fact, he had been so changed in a few moments
that his most intimate acquaintance would scarcely recognise him.
Morris had come out of the affray with barely a scratch or two.
His attack had been so sudden and so ferocious that Flatt, though
he was the larger man, had little chance to defend himself.
Joe Porter had been behind the bar when the events which we have
described occurred; for the blow he had received had so shaken him
as to leave him incapable either of resenting the taunts which he
had flung at him by Morris and the others, or of interfering to
stop the bloody affray which was the sequel to his own little
affair. In fact, he did not have any special anxiety to risk his
own precious person again. He, however, managed to signal to his
son, a young man who had come in during the _melee_, and he
went for the town constable. It was not long before that personage
arrived, but the fight was ended. Porter gave him to understand he
would rather no arrests were made; so he sent them to their
respective homes, at the same time giving them to understand if he
caught either of them engaging in a row again they should not
escape so easily.