"Oh, I daresay you would like to get rid of me, all of you!"
"Well, then, shall we wind up this business?" said the judge of the karvarina, putting his hand on Radonic's shoulder.
"I am quite ready," said he.
Thereupon he drew forth his leather purse and took out several Maria
Theresa dollars.
"Shall we make it five instead of one?" he asked, spreading out the new and shining coins on his broad palm. "Now, tell me, tailor, if I am niggardly with my money?" he added, handing the sum to Vranic.
The tailor seized the dollars and clenched his fist; then, with a scowl:
"I don't want any of your charity," he hissed out in a shrill treble. "Five are almost worth six goats, and my brother is worth but one. Here, take your money back; distribute it among the arbitrators, to whom you have been so generous. No, heyduk, you are not niggardly; but, then, what are a few dollars to you? a shot of your gun and your purse is full. Thanks all the same, I only want my due. No robber's charity for me." And with these words he flung the five dollars in Radonic's face.
The sharp edge of one of the coins struck Radonic on the corner of the eye, just under the brow, and the blood trickled down. All his drunkenness vanished, his gloomy look took a fierce expression, and with a bound he was about to seize his antagonist by the throat and strangle him as he had done his brother; but Vranic, who was on his guard, lifted up the knife he had received from the murderer a few hours before, and quick as lightning struck him a blow on his breast.
"This is my karvarina," said he; "tooth for tooth, eye for eye, blood for blood."
The blow had been aimed at Radonic's heart, but he parried it and received a deep gash in the fore-part of his arm.