"I can't have anything to do with a man who trades in tobacco. Let go that bridle."
"But I've not spoken to a white man for three months."
"That's no business of mine. Let go that bridle."
He gave his pony another kick. His lips were obstinately set and he looked at Birch sternly. Then Birch lost his temper. He clung to the bridle as the pony moved on and began to curse the missionary. He hurled at him every term of abuse he could think of. He swore. He was horribly obscene. The missionary did not answer, but urged his pony on. Birch seized the missionary's leg and jerked it out of the stirrup; the missionary nearly fell off and he clung in a somewhat undignified fashion to the pony's mane. Then he half slipped, half tumbled to the ground. The cart had come up to them by now and stopped. The two Chinese who were sitting in it looked at the white men with indolent curiosity. The missionary was livid with rage.
"You've assaulted me. I'll have you fired for that."
"You can go to hell," said Birch. "I haven't seen a white man for three months and you won't even speak to me. Do you call yourself a Christian?"
"What is your name?"
"Birch is my name and be damned to you."
"I shall report you to your chief. Now stand back and let me get on my journey."