The Evil One tore up an oak for a club.
Bang! Baim-wa — again, so the sky was dark with clouds of dust, the gloom and the heat were dreadful, and frightful the swishing of pinions, the eye-flashing glances were fearful, and the fighters were hot-breathed and cold-breathed, as they rumbled and pounded.
Crack! bang! and the bowl was a-shiver. Swish, flash, ha-roo! Roll! Roll! Baim-wa, battler, warrior, fighter!
Bang! Baim-wa, again and again, and the rain of a month withheld came roaring in rivers downward.
Crack! arrows of light; crash! warclubs of power, as the two were a-swirl, in the battle, on the hills of the Chaska-water — tossing, dashing, bending the groves; pelting with arrows ..text continues