"I am prepared to take anything that is coming to me!" responded the young man.
He spoke almost jauntily, and John admired his spirit.
"I evidently did not hit you quite as hard as I thought," John remarked.
"Quite hard enough," responded the other, "but please don't shoot, because——"
Then, to John's amazement, and with the utmost daring, he leapt forward like a flash and seized John's pistol. There was a swift, fierce struggle. The moment was one for quick decisions. The stranger held the weapon by the wrong end, and John knew it. Unexpectedly he let go, and simultaneously landed a heavy left on the young man's downbent jaw. He followed with a right, and then another left. He was as busy as he had ever been, and he knew he was fighting for his entire future, possibly for his life.
"I've had enough," gasped the stranger.
He reeled away, and seated himself on the farther side of the narrow street.
John searched about, picked up the weapon from the middle of the road and pocketed it. Then he buttoned his coat, after carefully satisfying himself that the pocket-book was still in its place, and prepared to go.
"Good night," called the other, seated on the edge of the pavement, as he went.
Manton, however, was in no mood for persiflage. He took himself off, walking as swiftly as he could.