feat was done. Everybody ran forward, while Wholesome stood a strange
picture, his eyes wide open and his pupils dilated, his face flushed and
lips a little apart, showing his set white teeth while he awaited his
foe. Then, as the man rallied and sat up, staring widely, Wholesome ran
forward and looked at him, waving the crowd aside. In a moment, as the
man rose still bewildered, his gaze fell on Wholesome, and, growing
suddenly white, he sat down on a bundle of staves, saying faintly, "Take
him away! Don't let him come near!"

"Coward!" said I: "one might have guessed that."

"There is to him," said Schmidt at my elbow, "some great mortal fear;
the soul is struck."

"Yes," said Wholesome, "the soul is struck. Some one help him"--for the
man had fallen over in something like a fit--and so saying strode away,
thoughtful and disturbed in face, as one who had seen a ghost.

As he entered the counting-house through the group of dignified old
merchants, who had come out to see what it all meant, one of them said,
"Pretty well for a Quaker, friend Richard!"

Wholesome did not seem to hear him, but walked in, drank a glass of wine
which stood on a table, and sat down silently.

"Not the first feat of that kind he has done," said the elder of the
wine-tasters.

"No," said a sea-captain near by. "He boarded the Penelope in that
fashion during the war, and as he lit on her deck cleared a space with