Judge, git breath and go for us some more."

"Hurrah for the Judge," etc.

"I came seekin' whom I might devour like a raging lion. I sought
foemen worthy of my steel. I leaped into the arena and blew my
challenge to the four quarters of Rock--"

"Good f'r you, settemupagin! Go it, you old balloon," they all
applauded.

"Knowing my prowess I sought a fair fout and no favors. I met the
enemy and he was mine. Champion after champion went down before me
like--went down like--Ahem! went _down_ before me like grass before
the mighty cyclone of the Andes."

"Listen to the old blow-hard," said Steve.

"Put him out," said the speaker, imperturbably. "Gentlemen, have I the
floor?"

"You have," replied Brown, "but come to the point. The Colonel is
anxious to begin shooting." The Colonel, who began to suspect himself
victimized, stood wondering what under heaven they were going to do
next!

"I'm a gitt'n' there," said the orator with a broad and sunny
condescension.

"I found your champions an' laid 'em low. I waxed Walters, and then I
tackled the Colonel. I tried the _echelon_, the 'general advanced,'
then the 'give away' and 'flank' movements. But the Colonel _was
there_. Till this last game it was a fair field and no favor. And now,
gentlemen of Rock, I desire t' state to my deeply respected opponent,
that he is still champion of Rock, and I'm not sure but of Northern
Iowa."

"Three cheers for the Kunnel!"

And while they were being given the Colonel's brows relaxed, and the
champion of Cerro-Gordo continued earnestly:--

"And now I wish to state to Colonel the solemn fact that I had nothing
to do with the job put up on him to-night. I scorn to use such means
in a battle. Colonel, you may be as bald as an apple, or an egg, yes,
or a _plate_, but you can play more checkers than any man I ever met,
more checkers than any other man on God's green footstool.--With
one-single, lone exception--myself."

At this moment, somebody hit the dead-beat from Cerro-Gordo with a
decayed apple, and as the crowd shouted and groaned Robie turned down
the lights on the tumult. The old Colonel seized the opportunity for
putting a handful of salt down Walters' neck, and slipped out of the
door like a ghost. As the crowd swarmed out on the icy walk, Editor
Foster yelled:--

"Gents! let me give you a pointer. Keep your eye peeled for the next
edition of the Rock River _Morning Call_." And the bitter wind swept
away the answering s