You better
jump off the bridge if you want to commit suicide. You wouldn't stand a
ghost of a chance to live ten seconds."
Patsy was as unshaken as granite. "Well, if he wants t' fight wid
swords, he'll get it. I'll giv' 'im a go at it, anyhow."
One man said--"Well, have you got a sword? Do you know what a sword is?
Have you got a sword?"
"No, I ain't got none," said Patsy honestly, "but I kin git one." Then
he added valiantly--"An' quick, too."
The two men laughed. "Why, can't you understand it would be sure death
to fight a sword duel with this fellow?"
"Dat's all right! See? I know me own business. If he wants t' fight one
of dees d--n duels, I'm in it, understan'"
"Have you ever fought one, you fool?"
"No, I ain't. But I will fight one, dough! I ain't no muff. If he wants
t' fight a duel, by Gawd, I'm wid 'im! D'yeh understan' dat!" Patsy
cocked his hat and swaggered. He was getting very serious.
The little Cuban burst out--"Ah, come on, sirs: come on! We can take
cab. Ah, you big cow, I will stick you, I will stick you. Ah, you will
look very beautiful, very beautiful. Ah, come on, sirs. We will stop at
hotel--my hotel. I there have weapons."
"Yeh will, will yeh? Yeh bloomin' little black Dago!" cried Patsy in
hoarse and maddened reply to the personal part of the Cuban's speech. He
stepped forward. "Git yer d--n swords," he commanded. "Git yer swords.
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