He now rose, and went towards Robin, who got up from his seat as
he approached, and held out his hand.
"That's right, Harry--go it--serve him out," resounded on all
sides--"tip him the nailer--show him the mill."
"Hold your peace all of you, and be--," said Wakefield; and then
addressing his comrade, he took him by the extended hand, with
something alike of respect and defiance. "Robin," he said, "thou
hast used me ill enough this day; but if you mean, like a frank
fellow, to shake hands, and take a tussle for love on the sod,
why I'll forgie thee, man, and we shall be better friends than
ever."
"And would it not pe petter to pe cood friends without more of
the matter?" said Robin; "we will be much petter friendships
with our panes hale than proken."
Harry Wakefield dropped the hand of his friend, or rather threw
it from him.
"I did not think I had been keeping company for three years with
a coward."
"Coward pelongs to none of my name," said Robin, whose eyes began
to kindle, but keeping the command of his temper. "It was no
coward's legs or hands, Harry Waakfelt, that drew you out of the
fords of Frew, when you was drifting ower the plack rock, and
every eel in the river expected his share of you.
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