He came slowly in, head down, as if to pick me up and throw me down.
I waited till he was close, then gave him an upward rip with all my might, a blow on the forehead that made the blood flow, and staggered him with consternation. To keep myself still at white heat, I showered blows on him. To my surprise, he fell back.
"Wait—wait," he protested in a small voice, "I—I was just fooling."
After Vinton left, my blood still pouring through my veins in a triumphant glow, I sat on the ground by the side of my tent-floor and composed a poem....
That afternoon Barton's office boy was sent to me, as an emissary of peace.
"The boss wants to see you in his office."
"Tell your boss that my office is down here. If he wants to see me he can come here."
The boy scurried away. I was now looked upon as a desperate man.