revolting.

I scrambled to my feet and faced the open front of the restaurant, and
as I stood up there was, on the instant, a sharp fusillade from the
belfry tower. But I was now far too angry to consider that. The men
were kneeling just inside the restaurant, and as I halted a few feet
from them I stuck my finger through the bullet hole and held up my hat
for them to see.

"Look!" I shouted at them. "You did that, you cowards. You want to
murder me, do you?" I straightened myself and threw out my arms,
"Well, here's your chance," I cried. "Don't shoot me in the back.
Shoot me now."

The men gaped at me in utter amazement. Their lips hung apart. Their
faces were drawn in lines of anger, confusion, and dislike.

"Go on!" I shouted. "Fire a volley at that belfry, and let the man who
wants me have another chance at me. I'll give the word. Make ready!" I
commanded.

There was a pause and a chorus of protests, and then mechanically each
man jerked out the empty shell and drove the next cartridge in place.
"Aim!" I shouted. They hesitated and then raised their pieces in a
wavering line, and I looked into the muzzles of a dozen rifles.

"Now then--damn you," I cried. "Fire!"

They fired, and my eyes and nostrils were filled with burning smoke,
but not a bullet had passed near me.