He turned again to General Surgoff. “Surgoff,” he said, “did you ever hear of men fighting with their fists?”
“Yes,” was the answer, in a snarling voice. “I have had some such experience myself. I took boxing lessons under an English instructor. Why do you ask?”
“Because,” was the reply, “this young British officer here,” and he indicated Jack with a motion of his head, “tells me that he has a score to settle with you and that he would be glad to settle it by the use of his fists. If you are proficient in that art of fighting, so much the better. You may possibly save yourself a severe thrashing.”
“And you mean that you are going to consent to such a thing?” demanded the other.
“I am; most decidedly. Even now I can see the marks of the lash on this lad’s face. Certainly he is entitled to payment; and I intend to see that he gets it. If you refuse to fight, I shall have you lashed myself.”
General Surgoff eyed Jack keenly. The lad, though not as tall and broad as the officer, still was husky enough to give the general an idea that he would not be easily conquered. Besides, through long residence in Great Britain in his younger days, the officer had come to hold a great respect for the Englishman when it came to the use of fists. Still, compared with himself, Jack seemed small. Surgoff became possessed of the idea that he could overcome him.
“I’ll fight him,” he said in answer to General Burgoff’s last remark. “But I want to tell him now that he will be sorry he ever crossed my path.” Jack smiled pleasantly.
“Because of the chance that I shall have at you now,” he said, “I am glad that I encountered you. You may believe me, for every lash of the whip you have given me, you shall pay now. I will not let you off too easily.”
“You boast,” said the other. “It is unwise. Before I am through with you you will be crying another tune.”
“Perhaps,” said Jack quietly. “Well, General,” turning to General Burgoff, “whenever you say, sir.”