As soon as I had covered this individual, I felt a grim satisfaction, for I knew his name was Dennis, and that he was my game.
He proved to be even more averse to taking his medicine than my first patient, for he floundered around in the boat, whooping it up like a wild Yaqui Indian, and threatened to bring the whole outfit to grief; realizing which, one of the rowers knocked him overboard, and the fellow at the stern dragged him in again, doubtless somewhat cooled by his immersion.
Brief though the time had been which was consumed in this little comedy, or tragedy, as you please, it was enough to bring the boats alongside.
Robbins saw his chance with the boathook to keep one of them at arm’s length, so to speak.
He planted it solidly against the bow of the boat, and effectually blocked its progress, while moving our own craft a little.
This gave me a chance at the other.
There were three fellows besides the cripple.
They saw me crouching there, waiting like a Nemesis for them, and the sight was not at all to their liking.
A couple of them began to yelp dismally, like a dog that sees his finish when the irate master draws near, whip in hand.
Cowards at heart, they would have fled the spot if given a chance; but the battle was now on, and even rats at bay are to be feared.