I thought the bully would have had him by the windpipe and pitched
him after the mastiff, so fiercely he turn'd at the sound of this
name. But the old gentleman skipped back quite nimbly and held up a
finger.

"I'm a man of peace. If another title suits you better--"

"Where the devil got you that name?" growled the bully, and had half
a mind to come on again, but the other put in briskly--

"I'm on a plain errand of business. No need, as you hint, to mention
names; and therefore let me present myself as Mr. Z. The residue of
the alphabet is at your service to pick and choose from."

"My name is Luke Settle," said the big man hoarsely (but whether
this was his natural voice or no I could not tell).

"Let us say 'Mr. X.' I prefer it."

The old gentleman, as he said this, popped his head on one side,
laid the forefinger of his right hand across the book, and seem'd to
be considering.

"Why did you throttle that dog a minute ago?" he asked sharply.

"Why, to save my skin," answers the fellow, a bit puzzled.

"Would you have done it for fifty pounds?"