"Three to one would be still better, Pamphile--two in front and one behind, eh? Tell Paddy to come out where I can see him." "He is a devil," said Tom, with an oath. "Pat, come around in front. He will not run away, I can see that." "Run away, Tom?" said Jean, in mild surprise. "Why should I do that?" "Damned if I know," said Tom. "You never saw me do it, did you, Tom?" "No, damn you! Not yet." "Not yet, Tom? Why do you say that?" "Oh, be silent, Tom," broke in Pamphile. "Why all this talk? Don’t you see that he is mocking you. Jean Baptiste Giroux, listen to me. We have certain requests which we desire to make." "Requests, Pamphile?" "Yes, requests. Demands, if you like." "Demands? That is interesting. I am curious to know what they are." "You shall know soon enough. Begin, Tom." "Jean Baptiste Giroux, damn you!" spluttered Tom Sullivan. "You know damn well what I want, and if you don’t give it up, by God, I’ll kill you, you cursed thief--kill you, I say." "Give up what, Tom?" "The mail contract, damn you!" "And if not, Tom?" "If not? You refuse? He refuses. Come on, boys! All together!" But Pamphile laid his hand on Tom’s shoulder. "Wait, Tom. He has not yet refused. Give him a chance. Wait, I say. I also have a request to make of Monseigneur the Bishop." Jean did not smile any more; but his lips were pressed close together, and a steely glitter was in his eye. "What is it, then?" "I ask, Monseigneur the Bishop that was to be; I demand, little priest, to be permitted to strike you four times across the face with this little whip; the same, you will notice, that was used the other day. It was with some difficulty that I obtained it, but here it is--the very same, I assure you." "And if I refuse?" "If you refuse, little priest, I propose, for myself alone, not knowing what the good Tom may wish: I propose to tie you to a tree, without clothes, of course, and to flog you within an inch of your life. For my part, I would not kill you, but I might leave you for the mosquitoes." "That would be pleasant," said Jean, as though deliberating. "Unique, too, in this part of the world. I do not like it, at all. And you, Paddy, what would you do?" "I?" said Pat, "I am sick of the whole damned business, but I stand with Tom. But I’ll not see you killed, Jean, no, not that." "I let you off easy last time, Paddy." "So you did, Jean, damn well I know it. I’ll not see you killed, Jean." "Thank you for that, Paddy!" With that Jean made a sudden spring across the path in front of Pamphile and Tom; made a feint at Pat’s face with his left hand; and with his right dealt him a terrific blow at the corner of the jaw below the left ear. Pat fell to the ground, and lay unconscious among the ferns; while a struggle went on about him that he would have given his right arm to have seen.