The Turk, perceiving that it would be difficult to convince a drunken man by mere words, drew nearer to him, and grasped the hand that held the yataghan.
"What do you want?" cried the Janissary, fairly infuriated at this act of temerity.
"Come! Go thy way!"
"Do you know whose hand thou art grasping? My name is Halil."
"Mine also is Halil."
"Mine is Halil Pelivan—Halil the Wrestler!"
"Mine is Halil Patrona."
By this time the Janissary was beside himself with rage at so much opposition.
"Thou worm! thou crossed-leg, crouching huckster, thou pack-thread pedlar! if thou dost not let me go immediately, I will cut off thy hands, thy feet, thine ears, and thy nose, and then hang thee up."
"And if thou leave not go of my guest, I will fell thee to the earth with this stick of mine."