gh it was more than probable, the
disgust he, in common with the other warlike personages, entertained
toward the peaceable Nathan, might have rendered him a little more
malicious than usual.

"Nathan!" said he, as soon as he had concluded his neighing and
curvetting, "if you ever said your prayers, now's the time. Down with
your pack--for I can't stand deer's ha'r sticking in my swallow, no how!"

"Friend," said Nathan, meekly, "I beg thee will not disturb me. I am a
man of peace and quiet."

And so saying, he endeavoured to pass onwards, but was prevented by
Ralph, who, seizing his heavy bundle with one hand, applied his right
foot to it with a dexterity that not only removed it from the poor man's
back, but sent the dried skins scattering over the road. This feat was
rewarded by the spectators with loud shouts, all which, as well as the
insult itself, Nathan bore with exemplary patience.

"Friend," he said, "what does thee seek of me, that thee treats me thus?"

"A fight!" replied Captain Stackpole, uttering a war-whoop; "a fight,
strannger, for the love of heaven!"

"Thee seeks it of the wrong person," said Nathan; "and I beg thee will
get thee away,"

"What!" said Stackpole, "arn't thee the Pennsylvanny war-horse, the
screamer of the meeting-house, the ba'r of Yea-Nay-and-Verily?"

"I am a man of peace," said the submissive Slaughter.

"Yea verily, verily and yea!" cried Ralph, snuffling through the
nostrils, but assuming an air of extreme indignation: "Strannger, I've
heerd of you! You're the man that holds it agin duty and conscience to
kill Injuns, the redskin screamers--that refuses to defend the women, the
splendiferous creatur's! and the little children, the squall-a-baby
d'avs! And wharfo'? Bec'ause as how you're a man of peace and no fight,
you superiferous, long-legged, no-souled crittur! But I'm the gentleman
to make a man of you. So down with your gun, and 'tarnal death to me,
I'll whip the cowardly devil out of you."

"Friend," said Nathan, his humility yielding to a feeling of contempt,
"thee is theeself a cowardly person, or thee wouldn't seek a quarrel with
one thee knows can't fight thee Thee would not be so ready with thee
match."

With that, he stooped to gather up his skins, a proceeding that
Stackpole, against whom the laugh was turned by this sally of Nathan's,
resisted by catching him by the nape of the neck, twirling him round, and
making as if he really would have beaten him.