"You will perceive that the road here is passably even, and the light still fairly good," says I.
"Highly dramatic, on my soul!" he sneered.
"Sir Harry Raikes," says I, stepping up to his stirrup, "you will notice that I have here a sword and a whip—which shall it be?"
The sneer left his lips on the instant, his face as suddenly grew red, and I saw the veins start out on his temples.
"What," cries he, "is it a fight you're after?"
"Exactly!" says I, and laid my hand upon my small-sword; but at this moment Bentley rode betwixt us.
"By God, you don't, Dick!" says he, laying his great hand upon my shoulder.
"By God, but I do!" says I, endeavouring vainly to shake off his grasp.
"Man, Dick," cries he, "you are a madman—and full six inches shorter in the reach! Now I—"
"You!" I broke in, "you are a mountain—besides, the quarrel is mine—come, loose me, Bentley—loose me, I say."