Klinger’s hand dropped to his side in sheer dumbfounded amazement. He gazed in bewilderment at this young man, not able to realize that such words had been addressed to him.
Phil made a sign for the native to go, and the stolid but mystified native smiled in his pain and moved out of reach of the whip.
“Now go,” Phil commanded to Klinger. “This place is private property, and you are trespassing.” He pointed the way out.
Klinger slowly recovered his balance. Then a sinister smile spread slowly over his face.
“I can show you that you and your friends are the trespassers,” he said evenly. “Here is my title to the property, signed and executed by the court.” He drew forth a paper from his coat pocket.
Phil gazed squarely into Klinger’s face unwaveringly. “You heard what I said,” the young midshipman replied. “I saw the way you horsewhipped that inoffensive native; if I were he I would wait my chance and give you back two blows for every one received. You are a brutal coward! Your kind don’t fight. You are simply a bully!”
Klinger, fairly aroused, was now stung to action; again he raised his cruel whip, slinging the long lash behind him and retreating a step to give the blow fair play. Phil did not budge. He saw the long leash raise itself as if alive from the ground; he heard it sing in the air above him, expecting it to wrap itself stinging and biting about his neck. But it passed harmlessly a few inches from his shoulder and fell upon the ground at his feet with a dull report. Then he could hardly believe his eyes, for his antagonist was rolling on the ground, a naked brown body clinging desperately to him.
Phil was transfixed in astonishment. His first intention, to go to the aid of the native, he saw was unnecessary. The supple native boy had found his strength and was slowly choking the breath from the manager’s body. Klinger’s face had turned purple before Phil could persuade the injured native to desist. The boy was fairly delirious with savage joy over his wonderful achievement. Klinger lay insensible upon the ground. Phil stooped, the manager’s whip in his own hands, and tore the man’s shirt at the neck and felt for his heart. He feared that some permanent injury might have been done him.
Sydney and the others were now at Phil’s side. Avao openly praised the native boy for his prowess, and Phil learned that a command from her had sent this young bundle of steel muscles to protect him from the manager’s cruel whip. The native grinned for joy. He had discovered his own manhood and protected a papalangi friend of the queen of his clan from a ruffianly slave driver.
“He’s nearly choked to death,” Phil announced as he rose to his feet. “That boy has the strength of a young gorilla in his hands. Look at those marks on Klinger’s neck.”