So engrossed was I that I had quite forgotten Fisher; but now I was reminded by the sound of a stentorian grunt.
“Ugh!” he groaned. “Get me a cab; fetch me a cab, some one.”
Blood was dripping from his nose; his collar was torn, his cheeks scarred by the nails of his foe; everything, even his whiskers, seemed to have suffered. It would not be easy to persuade this victim of the wars to patronize our mission now, but for Kate's sake I thought I must try.
“Well, Fisher,” I said, heartily, “you are a sportsman! Your spirit and your vigor, my dear sir, were quite admirable.”
For reply he only snorted again and repeated his demand for a cab. Well, I sent one of a large crowd of boys who had collected outside the mission to fetch one, and suavely returned to the attack. It was not certainly encouraging to find that he and Kate had evidently exchanged no amenities while I was out of the room, but, ignoring this air of constraint, I said to him:
“We shall see you soon again, I trust? We depend upon your aid, you know. You have shown us your martial ardor! let us benefit equally by your pacific virtues!”
“I shall see myself—” began Fisher. Then he glanced at Kate and altered his original design into, “a very long way before I return to this office. It is disgraceful, sir; madam, I say it is disgraceful.”
“But what is?” I asked.
“Everything about this place, sir. Mission? I call it a bear-garden, that's what I call it.”
“I am sorry, Mr. Fisher,” began Kate, but our patron was already on his way out without another word to either of us. And I had been his rescuer! He slammed the door behind him, and that was the last of my friend Fisher.