“I ain't got no basket,” said Mike, facing round.
“Then you know where it is.”
“I don't know nothin' of your basket.”
“You pulled my hat over my eyes on purpose to steal my basket.”
“No, I didn't. You insulted me, that's why I did it.”
“Tell me where my basket is, or I'll lick you,” said Paul, incensed.
“I ain't nothin' to do with your basket.”
“Take that, then, for pulling my hat over my eyes,” and Paul, suiting the action to the word, dealt Mike a staggering blow in the face.
“I'll murder you!” shouted Mike, furiously, dashing at Paul with a blow which might have leveled him, if he had not fended it off.
Paul was not quarrelsome, but he knew how to fight, and he was prepared now to fight in earnest, indignant as he was at the robbery which entailed upon him a loss he could ill sustain.