I glanced at the document. It was an acknowledgment of all Mr. Parasyte charged me with, and a promise to behave myself properly. I refused to sign it. The principal rolled up his sleeves, and took the cowhide in his hand. He looked cool and malignant.
"Then I shall do as your uncle wishes me to do—reduce you to subjection," said he. "Consider well what you are doing."
"I have considered, sir. If you strike me with that cowhide, I shall do the best I can to defend myself."
"Do you threaten me?" demanded Mr. Parasyte, stepping towards me with a jerk.
"No, sir; but I will not submit to a blow, if it costs me my life."
"Won't you? We'll see."
He did see. He struck me. The blow cut my soul. I sprang upon him with all the tiger in my nature let loose. I kicked, bit, scratched. I clawed at his throat like a vampire, and, though severely belabored, I finally wrenched the cowhide from his grasp, and hurled him back so that he fell full length upon the floor.