Ferguson, he checked up short and wheeled around and charged again like a bull.

And he missed again.

And so they kept on playin' a sort of a game of tag over the place, the stranger jest side-steppin' like a prize-fighter, the prettiest you ever seen, and not developin' when Sandy started on one of his swings.
"At last one of Sandy's fists grazed him on the shoulder and sort of peeved him, it looked like.

He ducks under Sandy's next punch, steps in, and wallops Sandy over the eye--that punch didn't travel more'n six inches.

But it slammed Sandy down in a corner like he's been shot.
"He was too surprised to be much hurt, though, and drags himself up to his feet, makin' a pass at his pocket at the same time.