"Get up out o' that, you long-legged devil, you!" cried Bud, in a sudden rage. "Mean to tell me that you's forgotten how you did me 'n' Curly with yer rotten fifty cents? Well, you'll 'member it 'fore you get out o' here. Stand up till I put cher face in fer you!"
Slim was not a coward, and got up and squared for the row. Then Bud decided that he preferred to fight with razors, and drew one from under his shirt-bosom. This was serious, and the crowd gathered around and asked for explanations. Both men gave their separate accounts of the trouble. All agreed that Slim had been greedy, even he himself, and he offered to beg Bud's pardon; but the majority claimed that the offense could not be settled that way, and the fight must consequently go on. Nevertheless, several tried to stop it, and argued earnestly with both men. Slim was willing enough not to quarrel further, but Bud would hear of nothing but satisfaction.
"I said I'd do that fella," he cried to those trying to pacify him, "and I will. Jus' let me alone; if you don't, you'll get the worst of it."
It was no use to argue with him while in such a mood, and he threw off his coat. Slim did likewise, and a friend lent him a razor. A Canadian was chosen for referee.
"Is this thing for a finish?" he asked, as he examined their razors.
"'T is 'f I can make it so," said Bud, doggedly.
"And you, Slim?" queried the Canadian, further.
"Well," Slim replied, in his slow and measured way, "I guess I'll do my share; but before the show begins I jus' want to ask you a question, Bud. Ain't got any objections, have you?"
"Well, now, Bud, d' you 'member the time when I took thirty days fer you down in Alabama so that you could go off 'n' cure yer diseases? 'Member how we worked it, don't cher--how I walked in to see you to let you walk out in my togs? Guess y' ain't forgotten that, have you?"
"What's that got to do with this circus?" Bud sneeringly returned.
Slim looked at him steadily, and his friends say that Bud winced; but that was all it amounted to, for in a minute the referee was calling them to action.
"Get ready," he commanded, handing them their razors.
They pushed the blades back against the handles and held them tightly with their fingers, leaving the edges bare.