“That wasn't long--it was over in a minute or two. Harve Allen got up and stood off grinning, just as he always grinned when he'd mauled somebody to his own satisfaction, and two or three went up to Singin' Sandy and upended him on his feet. Somebody fetched a gourd of water from the public well and sluiced it over his head and face. He was all blood where he wasn't mud--streaked and sopped with it, and mud was caked in his hair thick, like yellow mortar, with the water dripping down off of it. He didn't say a word at first. He got his breath back and wiped some of the blood out of his eyes and off his face onto his sleeve, and I handed him his old skin cap where it had fallen off his head. The cub broke loose and came running to him and he shook himself together and straightened up and looked round him. He looked at Harve Allen standing ten feet away grinning, and he said slow, just as slow and quiet: “'I'll be back agin Mister, one month frum today. Wait fur me. “That was all--just that 'I'll be back in a month' and 'wait fur me.' And then as he turned around and went away, staggering a little on his pins, with his cub trotting alongside him, I'm blessed if he didn't start up that little humming song of his; only it sounded pretty thick coming through a pair of lips that were battered up and one of them, the upper one, was split open on his front teeth. “We didn't then know what he'd meant, but we knew in a month. For that day month, on the hour pretty nigh, here came Singin' Sandy tramping in by himself. Harve Allen was standing in front of a doggery that a man named Whitis ran--he died of the cholera I remember years and years after--and Singin' Sandy walked right up to him and said: 'Well, here I am' and hit out at Harve with his fist. He hit out quick, like a cat striking, but he was short armed and under sized. He didn't much more than come up to Harve's shoulder and even if the lick had landed, it wouldn't have dented Harve hardly. His intentions were good though, and he swung out quick and fast. But Harve was quicker still. Singin' Sandy hit like a cat, but Harve could strike like a moccasin snake biting you. It was all over again almost before it started.