“You must do as you like about your house,” said he, “where I told you I have no thought of going; but this is a public place.”
“It’s a place where I have private business,” said I. “I have no idea of a hound like you eavesdropping, and I give you notice to clear out.”
“I don’t take it, though,” says Case.
“I’ll show you, then,” said I.
“We’ll have to see about that,” said he.
He was quick with his hands, but he had neither the height nor the weight, being a flimsy creature alongside a man like me, and, besides, I was blazing to that height of wrath that I could have bit into a chisel. I gave him first the one and then the other, so that I could hear his head rattle and crack, and he went down straight.
“Have you had enough?” cried I. But he only looked up white and blank, and the blood spread upon his face like wine upon a napkin. “Have you had enough?” I cried again. “Speak up, and don’t lie malingering there, or I’ll take my feet to you.”
He sat up at that, and held his head—by the look of him you could see it was spinning—and the blood poured on his pyjamas.
“I’ve had enough for this time,” says he, and he got up staggering, and went off by the way that he had come.
The boat was close in; I saw the missionary had laid his book to one side, and I smiled to myself. “He’ll know I’m a man, anyway,” thinks I.