Paddy did not seem to be in any hurry. No one knew what his bag contained for all was quiet inside. “That’s the deadest rooster ever,” yelled someone in derision. “He’s asleep. Wake up, birdie, day’s breaking!” Paddy made no reply. He seemed satisfied with himself and his “boird.” “All’s ready!” shouted the umpire. “When I say ‘three’ let them go!” Paddy took hold of the bottom of the sack and made ready to empty the contents. The spectators at this juncture pressed against the ropes and stood on tiptoe to see Paddy’s bird. When the word was given, Jerry, a large, Muscovy drake, web-footed and clumsy, dropped into the arena. The friends of Paddy were struck speechless, and the supporters of Jay Bird laughed boisterously, treating the affair as a joke, but Jay Bird, and Jerry were serious, and went to sparring at each other. Paddy, too, was in earnest; knowing his champion he said: “He’s all roight, boys. All hell can’t thrip him.” For a moment Jay Bird was disconcerted; although he had never seen a drake before, he did his best. He had fought turkeys, pea fowls and guineas, but not ducks. It was evident from the outset that Jerry knew what he was doing. He dodged beautifully and let the rooster pass over his head. Jay Bird’s spurs would come together above his back every time. The fighting was not dull. Those who watched it felt that there were surprises ahead for the cock. Jerry was biding his time, and it came by and by. Having knocked off the wire edge, without as much as touching the drake, Jay Bird settled down to a steady lick. That was just what Jerry had hoped for; then he became more aggressive. Sallying forth, ducking and dodging a little, he caught his adversary by the back of the neck. Jay Bird pulled back, but Jerry did not turn loose until he had kicked him in the breast and beaten him over the head with his heavy wings. The pounding made the rooster furious, and he flew at his antagonist with more vim than ever, and that time the aim was accurate, the blow falling on the drake’s head. It was Jerry’s turn to be angry. He stepped back a step or two and prepared to meet Jay Bird. The chicken went with a rush, half running and half flying, and as he rose to strike, the duck fastened him in the throat, brought him down and thumped him severely. The crowd was wild, but the battle had been so fast and furious and full of surprises that all looked on in silence, waiting to see the next move. At this stage of the game the drake did a wonderful feat. He ran into Jay Bird, took a firm hold upon his neck, rose and flew, like a hawk. The trick was done so quickly that the engrossed onlookers did not realize for a second what had happened. The big duck, with Jay Bird in his mouth, was going toward the creek. The crowd whirled about and hurried after him. “It’s all over now,” Paddy cried; “Jerry will drown Jay Bird in Black John’s swimming hole.”