“Well, Gallagher?” I asked, as my friend came back to me.
“Winged, by japers! You’ve spoilt the use ov his dexter arm—bone broke above the ilbow-joint.”
“That all?”
“Arrah, sowl! aren’t it enough? Hear how the hound whimpers!”
I felt as the tiger is said to feel after tasting blood, though I cannot now account for my ferocity. The man had sought my life—I thirsted for his. This combined with the other thought had nigh driven me mad.
I was not satisfied, and would make no apology; but my antagonist had had enough; he was eager to be taken from the ground on any terms, and thus the affair ended.
It was my first duel, but not my last.