"Excuse me for interrupting you, but I think that I have a right to. I assisted to capture the men, and therefore have a voice in relation to their disposal."
I was perfectly cool and collected while speaking, for I did not intend that the fellow should get the advantage of me by displaying passion.
"Your voice is of no account here in this house, so you will just take yourself off, and go to the devil, if you wish."
"I have no desire to see your relations, so I shall do no such thing. I have a right to be in the house, and I have authority to ask you to desist from ill treating these men. If you do not, I shall—"
"What?" the bully asked, thrusting his face close to mine, and leering most insultingly.
"Make you," I answered, decidedly.
"You will?" he demanded, with a malignant look.
"I shall do my best," I replied.
The bully did not utter a word in reply, but he put the point of his knife to a bushranger's arm, and pressed so hard that the prisoner uttered a half suppressed cry of pain.
"You see!" the fellow exclaimed, turning to me. "Now, what are you going to do about it?"