“Yes, sir, he hit me on the nose, sir.”
“How could he do that when your back was turned toward him?” demanded the captain sharply.
“Somebody cried, ‘Look out,’ and I turned, sir. Then I got it.”
“What did you do?”
“I slapped his face, sir.”
“And what did the prisoner do?”
Sam’s lips contracted a little upon his being referred to as “the prisoner.”
“He hit me on the nose with his fist, right on the sore spot, sir. He knocked me clean off my feet, tumbling me up under the breech of the eight-inch, sir.”
“Then what happened?”
“I went to the surgeon, sir, to get myself fixed up.”