The Broad Highway

"Pick it up!" said he, motioning imperiously to the cane on the

floor between us.

"Heaven forbid, sir," said I; "'is thy servant a dog that he

should do this thing?'"

"I told you to pick it up," he repeated, thrusting his head

towards me; "are you going to do so, or must I make you?" and

his nostrils worked more than ever.

For answer I raised my foot and sent the cane spinning across the

room. Somebody laughed, and next moment my hat was knocked from

my head. Before he could strike again, however, I raised my

staff, but suddenly remembering its formidable weight, I altered

the direction of the blow, and thrust it strongly into the very

middle of his gayly flowered waistcoat. So strongly did I

thrust, indeed, that he would have fallen but for the timely

assistance of his companion.

"Come, come," said I, holding him off on the end of my staff, "be

calm now, and let us reason together like logical beings. I

knocked down your cane by accident, and you, my hat by intent;

very well then, be so good as to return me my property, from the

corner yonder, and we will call 'quits.'"

"No, by gad!" gasped my antagonist, bending almost double,

"wait--only wait until I get--my wind--I'll choke--the infernal

life out of you--only wait, by gad!"

"Willingly," said I, "but whatever else you do, you will

certainly reach me my hat, otherwise, just so soon as you find

yourself sufficiently recovered, I shall endeavor to throw you

after it." Saying which, I laid aside my staff, and buttoned up

my coat.

"Why," he began, "you infernally low, dusty, ditch-trotting

blackguard--" But his companion, who had been regarding me very

closely, twitched him by the sleeve, and whispered something in

his ear. Whatever it was it affected my antagonist strangely,

for he grew suddenly very red, and then very white, and abruptly

turned his back upon me.

"Are you sure, Mostyn?" said he in an undertone.

"Certain."

"Well, I'd fight him were he the devil himself! Pistols perhaps

would be--"

"Don't be a fool, Harry," cried the other, and seizing his arm,

drew him farther away, and, though they lowered their voices, I

caught such fragments as "What of George?" "changes since your

time," "ruin your chances at the start," "dead shot."

"Sir," said I, "my hat--in the corner yonder."