Also Andrew was so furious that he was quite beside himself, and
Mifflin was in the cold anger that always wins. Andrew landed a
couple of flailing blows on the other man's chest and shoulders,
but in thirty seconds he got another punch on the chin followed by
one on the nose that tumbled him over backward.
Andrew sat in the road fishing for a handkerchief, and Mifflin stood
glaring at him, but looking very ill at ease. Neither of them said a
word. Bock broke away from me and capered and danced about Mifflin's
feet as if it were all a game. It was an extraordinary scene.
Andrew got up, mopping his bleeding nose.
"Upon my soul," he said, "I almost respect you for that punch. But
by Jove I'll have the law on you for kidnapping my sister. You're a
fine kind of a pirate."
Mifflin said nothing.
"Don't be a fool, Andrew" I said. "Can't you see that I want a
little adventure of my own? Go home and bake six thousand loaves of
bread, and by the time they're done I'll be back again. I think two
men of your age ought to be ashamed of yourselves.
Pages:
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96