I moved slightly away from the wall and also put my hands into my pockets according to the rules of our bazaars. This was a sign that I was not afraid of my adversary and even partly wished to hint at my contempt for him.
We stood face to face, measuring each other with our eyes. Having stared at me from head to foot, the boy asked:
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing,” I answered. “What business is it of yours?”
My adversary jerked his shoulder as if he intended to take his hand out of his pocket and strike me. I did not blink.
“I’ll show you!” he threatened.
I stuck out my chest.
“Hit me! Try!”
The moment was crucial. On it depended the character of our future relationship. I waited, but my opponent continued to fix me with the same scrutinising gaze and did not move.
“I’ll hit—too——” I said, but more peaceably this time.