V. HOW MIKE HOOTER CAME VERY NEAR “WALLOPING” ARCH COONY.

In the Yazoo Hills, near the town of Sartartia, in the good State of Mississippi, there lived at no distant date one Mike Hooter, whose hunting and preaching adventures became famous in all the land. Besides being a great bear-hunter and hard to beat at preaching, Mike professed to be “considerable” of a fighter, and in a regular knock-down and drag-out row was hard to beat.

In order that the world may not remain in darkness as to his doings in this last behalf, and fearing lest there may be no one who entertains for him that particularly warm regard which animates us towards him, we have thought it incumbent on us, in evidence of our attachment for the reverend hero, to jot down an instance that lingers in our memory respecting him, bequeathing it as a rich legacy to remotest time.

Entertaining such partiality, we may be pardoned for following Mike in one of his most stirring adventures, related in his peculiar and expressive vernacular.

“I’m one of the peaceablest fellers,” said Mike, “that ever trotted on hind legs, and rather than git into er fuss ’bout nothin’, I’d let er chap spit on me, but when it comes to rubbin’ it in, I always in gen’rally kinder r’ars up an’ won’t stan’ it.

“But there’s some fellers up in Yazoo what would rather git into er scrimmage than eat; an I’ve seen er few up thar what war so hungry for er fight, that they fell away an’ got so poor an’ thin that they had to lean up agin er saplin’ to cuss!

“That chap Arch Coony was er few in that line. He was the durndest, rantankerous hossfly that ever clum er tree! I’ll tell you what, ef I hadn’t er bin thar I wouldn’t er b’leeved it: I seed him one day in Satartia git up from er jug of whiskey, when he hadn’t drunk morn’n half of it, and leave t’other half to spile, and go an’ pitch into er privit spoute ’twene two Injuns, when he didn’t care er durn cent which walloped t’other, an’ lammin’ both on um out’n ther mockasins!

“Well, you see, Arch was mighty fond o’ them kind a tricks, an’ if he seed er fellow he thought he could lamm without no danger, he wouldn’t make no bones, but he’d just go up to the chap and make faces at him, and harry his feelings er bit; and ef the fellow showed spunky like, he’d let him alone, an’ ax him to take a drink; but if he sorter tried to sidle out of it, Arch would git as mad as all wrath, an’ swar, an’ cuss, an r’ar, an’ charge like er ram at er gate-post; and the fust thing you knowed, he’d shuck off his coat, an’ when the feller warn’t ’spectin’ nuthin’, Arch would fetch him er side wipe on the head, and knock him into the middle of next week.

“You see I didn’t like them sort of doings much, me, myself, I didn’t; and I all’ays, ef ever I got er chance at Arch, I’d let him down a buttonhole or two. He was gittin’ too high up in the pictures, ennyhow; and sez I one day, in er crowd, sez I:

“ ‘Ef that feller Arch Coony don’t mind which side of his bread’s buttered, I’ll git hold of him one of those days, an’ I’ll make him see sights.’

“Well, you see there was two or three sheep-stealing chaps listenin’ to what I sed, an’ they goes and tells Arch the fust chance I got I was gwine to larrup him. Well, that riled him like all fury, and as soon as he hearn it he begins er cussin’ like wrath, and sez he:

“ ‘Dod rot that ole Mike Hooter. He pertend to be a preacher. His preachin’ ain’t nothin’ but loud hollerin’ nohow.’

“So you see them same chaps, they comes an’ tells me what Arch had sed; an’ I got mad too, an’ we had the durndest rumpus in the neighbourhood you ever hearn.

“I didn’t see nothing of Arch from that time till about er month. Every time I went down to Sartatia to buy ennything—er barrel of whiskey, or backer, or sich like truck, for privit use—I looked for Arch, an’ Arch looked for me, but somehow or tother he never crossed my path.

“At last one day I sent him word I beleeved he was skeered of me, and the fust chance I got I would take the starch out’n him as sure as shooting; and he sent word back to me that was a game two could play at, and when I wanted to try it, he’d see if he couldn’t help me.

“Well, things went on that way for er long time, an’ I didn’t see nothing of Arch, so I begin to forgit all ’bout him. At last one day, when me and two or three other chaps was gwine down to Big Black River to go bar-hunting on t’other side of it, I hearn the darndest clatter-whacking, and noise in the road behind us; and when I turned round to see what in the name of thunder it was, thar was Arch and a whole lot of fellers cummin’ down the road, er galloping full tilt right up to us, an’ er gwine bar-huntin’ too.

“When I seed him I was so mad I thought I should er burst myself.

“ ‘Now, Mr. Arch, I’ve got you, and if you don’t keep your eye skin’d, I’ll lick you till your hide won’t hold shucks.’

“Toreckly, Arch he cum up alongside, and looked me right plum in the face as savage as er meat-axe; and sez he:

“ ‘Good mornin’ ole Preach, give us your paw.’

“I see thar was mischief in him as big as a meetin’-house, and I ’termined to give him as good as he sent, so I looked at him sorter savigerous like, and sez I:

“ ‘Look here, hoss, how can you have the face to talk to me, arter saying what you sed?’

“ ‘Why,’ sez he, ‘Uncle Mike, didn’t you begin it?’

“ ‘No,’ sez I; ‘an’ ef you sez I begun it I’ll larrup you in er inch of your life.’

“Sez he, ‘You eternal ole cuss, ef you want to larrup me, just larrup away as soon as you darn please, and we’ll see which ’ill get the wust of it.’

“ ‘Now,’ sez I, ‘I likes you, Arch, ’cause I all’ays thought you was a fust-rate feller; but ain’t you been ’busin’ me everywhere fur everything you could think of?’

“ ‘Yes,’ sez he, ‘but didn’t you say you’d git hold of me one of these days, and make me see sites?’

“ ‘No,’ sez I, ‘I didn’t: but this here’s what I sed, sez I, ef that feller, Arch Cooney, don’t mind which side of his bread’s buttered, I’ll get hold of him one of those days and make him see sites.’

“ ‘Well,’ sez he, ‘Uncle Mike, you knows I’m the most peace’blest feller living, and always mind which side of my bread’s buttered, and ef that’s all you sed, ’taint nothin’; so let’s take er drink.’

“Then he tuck out er tickler of whiskey, and arter he’d tuck three or four swallers out’n it, sez he:

“ ‘Uncle Mike, obleege me by taking er horn.’

“ ‘No,’ sez I, ‘I won’t do no such er dog on thing, for when I likes er chap, I likes him, and when I don’t like him, I don’t like him: but if you wants to fight, I’m your man.’

“You oughter seen Arch then, I think he was the most maddest man that ever wobbled on two ’hind legs.’ He rar’d an’ pitched, an’ cussed an’ swore like anything.

“When I see him cuttin’ up that way, I commence getting mad, too, an’ my knees they begin to shake, sorter like I had er chill, an’ skeered—no, Sir—an’ I s’posed thar was gwine to be thar devil to pay, I give you my word. I ain’t been so wrathy before once since, and that was t’other day when that Cain, the blacksmith, drunk up my last bottle of ‘bullface;’ and when I tacked him ’bout it, sed he thought it was milk.

“But that ein’t neither here, nor thar. As I was a sayin’, Arch he cussed at me, an’ I cussed at him, an’ the fellers what was along of me sed I beat him all holler. Torectly I begin to get tired of jawin’ away so much, and sez I:

“ ‘Arch, what’s the use of makin’ such er all-fired rackit ’bout nothin’. S’pose we make it up?’

“ ‘Good as wheat,’ sez he.

“ ‘Well,’ sez I, ‘give us your paw,’ sez I, ‘but,’ sez I, ‘thar’s one thing you sed, what sorter sticks in my craw yet, an’ if you don’t pollogize, I’ll wallop you for it right now.’

“ ‘What does you mean?’ sez he.

“Sez I, ‘Didn’t you sed one day that my preachin’ warn’t nothin’ but loud hollerin’?’

“ ‘Yes,’ sez he, ‘but didn’t you send me word one time that you b’lieved I was skeered of you, an’ the fust chance you got you’d take the starch out’n me, as sure as er gun.’

“Sez I, ‘Yes, but what does that signify?’

“ ‘Well,’ sez he, ‘ef you’ll take back what you sed, I’ll take back what I sed.’

“Then I begin to get as mad as all wrath, and, sez I:

“ ‘You eternal sheep-stealin’ whiskey-drinkin’, nigger-lammin’, bow-legged, taller-faced rascal, does you want me to tell er lie, by chawin’ up my own words? Ef that’s what you’re arter, jest come on, and I’ll larrup you till your mammy won’t know you from a pile of sassage-meat.’

“So we kep er ridin’ on, and er cussin’ one another worse than two Choctaw Injuns, an’ torectly we cum to the ferry-boat—whar we had to cross the river. Soon as we got thar, Arch he hopped down off’n his ole hoss, an’ commenced shuckin’ hisself fur er fight, an’ I jumped down too. I see the devil was in him as big as er bull, so I begin gritten my teeth, an’ lookin’ at him as spunky as er Dominecker rooster; and now, sez I:

“ ‘Mr. Arch Coony,’ I sed, ‘I’ll make you see sites, an’ the fust thing you know I’ll show them to you.’ Then I pulled off my ole Sunday go-to-meetin’-coat, an’ slammed it down on er stump, and, sez I: ‘Lay thar, ole Methodist, till I learn this ’coon some sense.’

“I soon see thar was gwine to be thar bustinest fight that ever was, so I rolled up my sleeves, an’ Arch rolled up hisn, and we was gwine at at it reglar.

“ ‘Now,’ sez he, ‘ole pra’r-meetin’ pitch in.’

“Well, I jist begin sidelin’ up, an’ he begin sidelin’ up. As soon as I got close ’nuff to him, so I could hit him a go-darter, sez he:

“ ‘Hole on er minnit, this ground’s too rooty; wait till I clear the sticks away from here, so as I can have a fair chance to give it to you good.’

“ ‘Don’t hollar till you’re out’n the woods,’ sez I; ‘p’raps when I’m done you won’t say my preachin’ ain’t nothin’ but hollerin’, I spec.’

“When he’d done scrapen’ off the ground, it looked jist like two bulls had been pawing up the dirt, I give you my word it did.

“Well, as I sed before, he sidled up, an’ I sidled up, and now, sez I:

“ ‘Look out for your bread-basket, ole stud, for ef I happen to give you er jolt thar, p’raps it ’ill tarn your stomach.’

“So thar we stood, head an’ tail up, jest like two chicken-cocks in layin’ time, an’ sez I to him:

“ ‘Arch, I’m gwine to maul you till you won’t know yourself.’

“Soon as we got close enuff, an’ I see he was about to make er lunge at me, sez I:

“ ‘Hole on, dod drot you, wait till I unbutton my gallowses, an’ may be so then I’ll show you them sites what we was talkin’ ’bout.’

“Well, all the fellers was stannin’ round ready to take sides in the fight, an’ toreckly the chap what kep’ the ferry begin to get tired of keepin’ thar ferry-boat waitin’, an’, sez he:

“ ‘Cuss your pictures! I’m not gwine to keep this here ferry-boat waitin’ no longer, an’ people on t’other side waitin’ to go over, so if you want to fight, come over on this side an’ fight there.’

“ ‘Good as ole wheat,’ sez I, anything to keep peace away, ‘ef you say so, let’s get into the boat, and settle it over thar.’

“Well, they all agreed to that without sayin’ a word, an’ Arch he got into the ferry-boat. I jumped into the eend of it, and was gwine to lead my hoss on too, but the all-fired critter was skeered to jump on to it, and sez I to the man who kept the ferry, sez I:

“ ‘Why don’t you wait till I get’s this durned four-legged critter into the boat?’

“He didn’t say a word, but kept shovin’ the boat out, and toreckly my hoss begin pullin’ back with the bridle, an’ I er holein’ on to it, an’ the furst thing I knowed, I went kerswash into the drink. So you see, in about er minit, thar was I on to this side, and thar was Arch on t’other, and no chance for me to git at him. Tell you what, I was hot then—and what was worser, Arch he hollered out and sed he b’leved I skeered the hoss and made him pull back, on purpose to get out’n the scrape. When I hearn him say that, I was so mad I fairly biled. Howsever, I soon see ’twarn’t no use raisen er racket ’bout what couldn’t be helped, so I ’cluded I’d have my satisfaction out’n him any way. An’ I begin shakin’ my fist at him, an’ er cussin’ him. Sez I:

“ ‘You eternal yaller-faced, suck-egg son of er ——, what is it you ain’t mean ’nuff for me to call you? I tell you what!’ (an’ I hope to be forgiven for swearin’) I cussed him blue.

“Well, I was so outdone I didn’t wait for the boat to come back, for it was gettin’ ’most dark and too late for bar-huntin’ that day; ’sides, my wife she would be ’spectin’ me at the house, and might rais pertickler dust if I didn’t get thar in time; so I jumped on my ole hoss, an’ put for home. But the way I cussed and ’bused Arch when I got on the hoss, was er sin, an’ the further I got away from him the louder I hollered! I pledge you my word, you might er hearn me er mile.

“To make a long story short, the last word I sed to him, sez I:

“ ‘Arch, you’ve ’scaped me this time by er axident, but the next time you cross my path, I’ll larrup you worse nor the devil beatin’ tan-bark! I will, by hokey!’

“Whew!” whistled Mike, drawing a long breath. “I tell you what, I come the nearest wollopin’ that feller, not to do it, that ever you saw.”

At this moment Mike donned his coon-skin cap, and giving it a terrific slam, that brought it over his eyes, vanished.