“Don’t talk about betting, but come an’ see me!” cried Ephraim, still prancing about and flourishing his arms. “Oh, you peen in a pig hurry, don’d id,” cried Hans. “Vale, look avay oudt!” Then he made a rush at Ephraim, who simply straightened out one of his long arms, permitting the Dutch boy to run against his glove. With a terrific thump, Hans sat down on the floor. “Yow!” he cried. “Oxcuse me for dot! I didn’t know you vas lookin’! Uf you hurted mein nose, I didn’t meant to done id.” The witnesses laughed, and Hans got upon his feet. “Come on!” invited Ephraim. “Come right at me!” “I peen goin’ to done dot britty queek, you pets my poots!” declared Hans, as he bounced around the Yankee boy, keeping at a safe distance. “Der nexd dime you hit me, id vill pe mit you faces mein fist on. Yaw!” “Brace up to him, ye Dutch chaze!” urged Barney, who began to itch all over at the sight of anything resembling a “scrap.” “Don’t let th’ long-legged farmer be afther froightenin’ yez.” “Who vos frightened?” demanded Hans. “He don’d peen afraidt uf me. I vas goin’ to shown him a trick vot I nefer seen. Here id vas, py shimminy!” Then he made another rush at Ephraim, who thrust out his fist once more, expecting the Dutch lad to run against it. But Hans had not forgotten what happened the first time, and he dodged under Ephraim’s glove, and gave the Yankee lad a terrific thump just below the belt. With a howl, Ephraim doubled up like a jackknife, holding both hands to his abdomen and turning purple in the face. “Yah!” shouted Hans, triumphantly. “Vot you toldt me a minute ago, ain’d id? I know I peen goin’ to done dot! Oh, I vas a holy derror somedimes!” “Gol—darn—yeou!” gasped Ephraim. “Yeou hit—me—below—the—belt!” “Yaw,” nodded Hans; “you pet I done dot. I known der blace vot takes uf you der vindt oudt, und I don’d haf a latter to climb higher up mit.” Ephraim was mad. As soon as he could straighten up, he sailed into Hans in earnest, and the spectators shouted with delight at the spectacle. To the surprise of all, the fat little Dutchman proved a rather stiff antagonist for the Vermonter. It made no difference to Hans where he struck Ephraim, and he managed to duck under the Yankee lad’s wicked blows. In their excitement, the boxers did not observe that they were working toward the open slip, assisted by Frank and his friends, who pressed upon them from the opposite side. Suddenly, as he was being pressed close, Hans dodged under Ephraim’s guard and clutched the country lad about the waist. Gallup wound his long arms around Hans’ neck, and they swayed and strained in each other’s grasp. It was uncertain whether they staggered of their own accord or were given a slight push, but all at once they reeled and went over into the slip. Them was a great splash as they struck the water, and they vanished from view, still locked in each other’s arms. In a moment they came up, having broken apart. “Hellup!” squawked Hans.