"Wal, Dick was that mad he turned white. When he realized that there was no way of his getting a drink for months he collapsed. Then he roused up and said as how the insult, being a mortal one, we'd have to settle it outside. I was looking for something of that kind and replied that I was agreeable. "Dick's idea was that we should use our knives and to keep to it till one was killed or he hollered 'Enough!' which neither of us would do to save his life. I said the best plan would be to use our fists. A duel with knives was liable to be over sudden, while a fist-fight would last much longer, and therefore give both more enjoyment. It wouldn't be any trouble for him as got the upper hand to pound the other to death, and being as the whole thing would be in doubt till it was over, the advantage in the way of real happiness was obvious. "After some argument Dick seed the p'int, and agreed, and we went at it. Wal, I needn't dwell on the partic'lars. Dick put up a stiff fight, and might have give me a good deal of trouble if it hadn't been that he was weakened by whiskey, while I had long got rid of the effects of the last drop. He had to knock under, and when he found the only way to save himself was to yell 'Enough!' he done it, though, as I said, he would have held out if he had been using knives. "I rested from pummeling him, but told him he couldn't get up till he had told the Lord what a mean scamp he was and had asked His forgiveness and promised to try to live a Christian. Dick wasn't expecting anything like that, and he b'iled over with rage. But it did no good, and I banged him agin, good and hard, and told him I never would stop till he knocked under. "I had to soothe him a good while before he give in. He said he would do as I wished and then I let him up. He wanted to wait till night, but I wouldn't allow it, and he went down on his knees and sailed in. I made him pray out loud, so as to be sure he put things in right shape. Now, Deerfoot, tell me whether I managed _that_ job right." The Shawanoe was puzzled, for the trapper had submitted a new phase of the most interesting question to him. But Deerfoot was shrewd. "Let my brother finish his story." "Oh, the job came out all right. Dick was sulky and ugly for a few days, though I made him stick to his prayers every morning and night. But bye and bye, when the whiskey got out of him, he begun to improve. One day he laughed, but was so scared by it that he didn't speak till night. Soon after that he told me he felt a good deal better, which the same I replied was because he was getting over the long drunk he had been on for a dozen years. "Wal, Dick continued to improve. His spirits rose, his appetite was stronger, he could stand more work, and I noticed that in praying he yelled louder than ever. All these was good signs and showed that I had managed the bus'ness right, so I won't ask your opinion on my style, Deerfoot.