"And if I refuse?"
"If you refuse, little priest, I propose, for myself alone, not knowing what the good Tom may wish: I propose to tie you to a tree, without clothes, of course, and to flog you within an inch of your life. For my part, I would not kill you, but I might leave you for the mosquitoes."
"That would be pleasant," said Jean, as though deliberating. "Unique, too, in this part of the world. I do not like it, at all. And you, Paddy, what would you do?"
"I?" said Pat, "I am sick of the whole damned business, but I stand with Tom. But I'll not see you killed, Jean, no, not that."
"I let you off easy last time, Paddy."
"So you did, Jean, damn well I know it. I'll not see you killed, Jean."
"Thank you for that, Paddy!"
With that Jean made a sudden spring across the path in front of Pamphile and Tom; made a feint at Pat's face with his left hand; and with his right dealt him a terrific blow at the corner of the jaw below the left ear. Pat fell to the ground, and lay unconscious among the ferns; while a struggle went on about him that he would have given his right arm to have seen.
Instantly Pamphile and Tom fastened upon Jean like mastiffs upon a bear at bay. Both were strong men; but Jean shook them off, and tried to close with one alone. More wary now, they circled about him, out of reach of his powerful hands; but presently he regained the path, stood with his back to the rock, and they feared to come near.
"Come on, boys!" said he, with a grim smile. "I am waiting for you."