"If you raise that whip," he said, "I'll take your tin sword away from
you, and spank you with it."

Never in my life had anyone hurt me so terribly. And the insult had
come before my men and his friends and the people in the street. It
turned me perfectly cold, and all the blood seemed to run to my eyes,
so that I saw everything in a red haze. When I answered him my voice
sounded hoarse and shaky.

"Get down," I said. "Get down, or I'll pull you down. I'm going to
thrash you until you can't stand or see."

He struck at me with his riding-crop, but I caught him by the collar
and with an old trick of the West Point riding-hall threw him off into
the street, and landed on my feet above him. At the same moment Miller
and Von Ritter drove their ponies in between us, and three of the
man's friends pushed in from the other side. But in spite of them we
reached each other, and I struck up under his guard and beat him
savagely on the face and head, until I found his chin, and he went
down. There was an awful row. The whole street was in an uproar, women
screamed, the ponies were rearing and kicking, the natives jabbering,
and my own men swearing and struggling in a ring around us.

"My God, Macklin!" I heard Von Ritter cry, "stop it! Behave yourself!"

He rode at our men with his sword and drove them back into ranks. I
heard him shout, "Fall in there. Forward. March!"

"This is your idea of keeping order, is it?" Miller shouted at me.