Nobody knows how things will turn up; and if it comes to the
scratch, why, one mustn't mind knocking a fellow on the head if he
stands in the way."
"No, to be sure not. 'Twould be foolish to stop and think about what's
law, and what's not law, and be knocked down yourself."
"Certainly, you're right, Bunce; that's only reason."
"And yet, mister, I guess you wouldn't want that I should know your raal
name, now, would you? or maybe you're going to tell it to me now?
Well--"
"To the business: what matters it whether I have a name or not? I have a
fist, you see, and--"
"Yes, yes, I see," exclaimed he of the notions, slightly retreating, as
Munro, suiting the action to the word, thrust, rather more closely to
the face of his companion than was altogether encouraging, the ponderous
mass which courtesy alone would consider a fist--
"Well, I don't care, you see, to know the name, mister; but somehow it
raally aint the thing, no how, to be mistering nobody knows who. I see
you aint a woman plain enough from your face, and I pretty much conclude
you must be a man; though you have got on--what's that, now? It's a kind
of calico, I guess; but them's not fast colors, friend.
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