You're a half-starved cappen, come down here to look for a wife, and----'
Before Dudley could finish his sentence, Captain Oakley, than whose face no
regimentals could possibly have been more scarlet, at that moment, struck
with his switch at Dudley's handsome features.
I don't know how it was done--by some 'devilish cantrip slight.' A smack
was heard, and the Captain lay on his back on the ground, with his mouth
full of blood.
'How do ye like the taste o' that?' roared Dickon, from his post of
observation.
In an instant Captain Oakley was on his feet again, hatless, looking quite
frantic, and striking out at Dudley, who was ducking and dipping quite
coolly, and again the same horrid sound, only this time it was double, like
a quick postman's knock, and Captain Oakley was on the grass again.
'Tapped his smeller, by--!' thundered Dickon, with a roar of laughter.
'Come away, Milly--I'm growing ill,' said I.
'Drop it, Dudley, I tell ye; you'll kill him,' screamed Milly.
But the devoted Captain, whose nose, and mouth, and shirt-front formed now
but one great patch of blood, and who was bleeding beside over one eye,
dashed at him again.
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