“I don't much blame you for being peevish,” Reade went on. “Still, I think there has been no serious harm done. Good night, friend.”
“No, ye don't!” snarled the other. “Nothing of the slip-away-easy style, like that!”
“Why, what do you want?” I asked Tom, opening his eyes in genuine surprise.
“Ye thick-headed idiot!” rasped the surly stranger. “Ye—”
From that the stranger launched into a strain of abuse that staggered the young engineer.
“Say no more,” begged Reade generously. “I accept your apology, just as you've phrased it.”
“Apology, ye fool!” growled the stranger.
“That won't do. Put up your hands!”
“Why?”
“So ye can fight, ye—”