“Because I chose to; I’m no wench minder,” he replied with an insolent laugh.
I did not hesitate a second, but while the laugh was still on his lips I struck him full in the face as hard as I could hit him, and down he went like a ninepin. He scrambled up, cursing and swearing and spitting out the blood from his mouth, and made ready to rush at me with his long knife, when I covered him with my revolver.
“Put that knife down, Karasch,” I cried, sternly. “Don’t try any monkey tricks with me. And you others, choose right now which side you’re on. I’ve been looking for this trouble for a couple of days past, and I’m quite ready for it.”
Gartski came to my side, and one of the others, Petrov, drew to Karasch; the fourth, Andreas, remaining undecided.
“You’re faithful to me, Gartski?” I asked. My guide had told me before that he was, so I felt certain of him.
“My life is yours,” he answered simply.
“Good; then we’ll soon settle this. Wait, Karasch. There isn’t room for two leaders in this camp, and we’ll settle this between us—you and I alone—once for all.”
I took Gartski’s knife and handed him my revolver.
“If anyone tries to interfere in the quarrel, shoot him, Gartski,” I said, and knife in hand I turned to the others. “Now, Karasch, if you’re man enough, we’ll fight on equal terms.”
“Good,” said the other two. It was a proposition fair enough to please them all, particularly as his supporters believed Karasch could account for me pretty easily in such a fight.