When the exchange of clothing had been effected, I found myself
attired in a dirty, greasy coat much too small for me, my arms
protruding far beyond the sleeves, a pair of grimy patched leather
smalls, that left an inch or two of bare flesh above my stockings,
and boots that, rent and battered though they were, cramped my feet
terribly.
"How we have overgrowed!" quoth Job with a leer.
The others laughed; then suddenly the man called Topper looked at
Job with a frown and said:
"Fair's fair; that there silver crown--I want a bit of that, Job."
This set them squabbling, though they kept a wary eye on me all the
time. In the end they decided to settle the ownership of the coin
by the arbitrament of chance. Job first spun it; Bill called
"heads" and lost. At the second spin Topper called "tails," and was
about to pocket the crown when I made a suggestion.
"Gentlemen," I said, in a conciliatory tone which I ought to have
adopted before, "I value that crown piece more highly than all the
guineas you have appropriated. 'Tis clear you are sportsmen"--I
glanced at the hares that lay on the floor, the booty of their
night's depredations. "I make you an offer which as sportsmen you
will not refuse. Let Mr. Topper and me fight it out, man to man,
and the coin go to the winner."
"Spoke like a man; what dost say, Topper?" said Job.
"Done!" says Topper, forthwith flinging off his coat, and rolling
up his shirt sleeves.
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