A Man for the Ages: A Story of the Builders of Democracy — John Shaqi
A Man for the Ages: A Story of the Builders of DemocracyBacheller, Irving
General
A Man for the Ages: A Story of the Builders of Democracy
Bacheller, Irving
Lincoln, Abraham, 1809-1865 -- Fiction
"Abe was working at my elbow. I saw him drop his hammer and get up and
make for the ladder. I knew something was going to happen and I followed
him. In a minute every one was off the roof and out of the building. I
guess they knew what was coming. The big lad stood there swinging his arm
and yelling like an Injun. It was a big arm and muscled and corded up
some but I guess if I'd shoved the calico off mine and held it up he'd a
pulled down his sleeve. I suppose the feller's arm had a kind of a mule's
kick in it, but, good gracious! If he'd a seen as many arms as you an' I
have that have growed up on a hickory helve he'd a known that his was
nothing to brag of. I didn't know just how good a man Abe was and I was
kind o' scairt for a minute. I never found it so hard work to do nothin'
as I did then. Honest my hands kind o' ached. I wanted to go an' cuff
that feller's ears an' grab hold o' him an' toss him over the ridge pole.
Abe went right up to him an' said:
"'Jack, you ain't half so bad or half so cordy as ye think ye are. You
say you can throw down any man here. I reckon I'll have to show ye that
you're mistaken. I'll rassle with ye. We're friends an' we won't talk
about lickin' each other. Le's have a friendly rassle.'
"In a second the two men were locked together. Armstrong had lunged at
Abe with a yell. There was no friendship in the way he took hold. He was
going to do all the damage he could in any way he could. He tried to butt
with his head and ram his knee into Abe's stomach as soon as they came
together. Half drunk Jack is a man who would bite your ear off. It was no
rassle; it was a fight. Abe moved like lightning. He acted awful limber
an' well greased. In a second he had got hold of the feller's neck with
his big right hand and hooked his left into the cloth on his hip. In that
way he held him off and shook him as you've seen our dog shake a
woodchuck. Abe's blood was hot. If the whole crowd had piled on him I
guess he would have come out all right, for when he's roused there's
something in Abe more than bones and muscles. I suppose it's what I feel
when he speaks a piece. It's a kind of lightning. I guess it's what our
minister used to call the power of the spirit. Abe said to me afterwards
that he felt as if he was fighting for the peace and honor of New Salem.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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