.. he was a natural-born
fighter ... in a twinkling I was on the floor, with a black eye, a
bleeding mouth.
I flung myself to my feet, full of fury ... then something went in my
brain like the click of a camera-shutter ... I had an hallucination of
Uncle Landon, coming at me with a club....
I plumped into a corner, crouching. "Don't hit me any more ... please
don't, Uncle Lan!"
"He's gone crazy!"
"Naw, he's only a bloody, bleedin' coward," returned another voice, in
surprise and disgust.
Someone spat on me. I was let up at last.... I staggered forward to my
bunk. My book had been handed back to me. It's a wonder I didn't throw
myself into the sea, in disgust over the queer fit that had come over
me. I lay half the night, puzzling ... was I a coward?
Not unless an unparalleled change had occurred in me. I had fought with
other children, when a boy ... had whipped two lads at once, when
working in the Composite factory, that time they spit into my book.
* * * * *
One day a fishing-junk hove into sight, just as if it had sailed out of
a Maxfield Parrish illustration,--swinging there in the mouth of a
blood-red sunset ... then, like magic, appeared another and another and
another....
"Fishing-junks," ejaculated the mate, "--pretty far out, too, but a
Chink'll risk his life for a few bleedin' cash .
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