“Let the poor fellow be. It’s a shame!”
The next minute the man sprang up, and Quong, as he called himself, cowered behind me, the other having in his astonishment loosened the poor fellow’s tail and set him free.
“Why, you young cockerel,” roared the big fellow, striding up to me, and bringing his left hand down heavily upon my shoulder. “Not to cut off that yallow scoundrel’s tail, arn’t I?”
“No,” I cried stoutly, though I felt anything but brave; “let him alone.”
“Will I? Look here, I’m going to have off that tail; and just to give you a lesson, I’m going to try the edge o’ my knife first on one of your ears.”
I wrested myself away, but he was as quick as I was, and had me again directly, holding the knife in a threatening way as if he really intended to fulfil his threat.
“Get hold of the knife, Esau,” I shouted; but it was not his hand and arm which interposed, for Gunson forced himself between us, thrusting me right away, as he said quietly—
“Let the boy alone.”
“Let the boy alone!” cried the big fellow, fiercely. “No, I shan’t let the boy alone. What do you mean by interfering? Who are you?”
“Like yourself, man—an Englishman.”