After my quarrel with Barton, he tried to oust me from that desirable site the Bishop's wife had turned over to me ... indeed, he tried to persuade me to leave the colony. But I would not stir. There was a young fellow in the "City" named Vinton.... Vinton was the strong man of the place. He spent three hours every morning exercising, in minute detail, every muscle of his body ... and he had developed beautiful muscles, each one of which stood out, like a turn in a rope, of itself. Vinton was sent to oust me, by force if need be. I really was afraid of him when he strode up to me, as I lay there reading the _Revolt of Islam_ again. With a big voice he began to hint, mysteriously, that it would be wise for me to clear out. I showed him that I held a clear title and right to sojourn there till Christmas, if I chose to, as the bishop's wife had paid for the site till that time, and had then transferred the use of the location to me. I showed him her letter ... with the Tallahassee postmark. His only answer was, that he knew nothing about that ... that Barton wanted the place, and, that if I wouldn't vacate peaceably--and he looked me in the eyes like some great, calm animal. Though my heart was pounding painfully, against, it seemed, the very roof of my mouth, I compelled my eyes not to waver, but to look fiercely into his.... "Are you going to start packing?" "No, I am not going to start packing." "I can break your neck with one twist," and he illustrated that feat with a turn of one large hand in the air. He came slowly in, head down, as if to pick me up and throw me down. I waited till he was close, then gave him an upward rip with all my might, a blow on the forehead that made the blood flow, and staggered him with consternation. To keep myself still at white heat, I showered blows on him. To my surprise, he fell back. "Wait--wait," he protested in a small voice, "I--I was just fooling." * * * * * After Vinton left, my blood still pouring through my veins in a triumphant glow, I sat on the ground by the side of my tent-floor and composed a poem.... That afternoon Barton's office boy was sent to me, as an emissary of peace. "The boss wants to see you in his office." "Tell your boss that my office is down here. If he wants to see me he can come here." The boy scurried away. I was now looked upon as a desperate man. * * * * * And I was happy. I sang at the top of my voice, an old ballad about Captain John Smith, so that Barton could hear it through the open window of his office.... "And the little papooses dig holes in the sand ... _Vive le Capitaine John!_..." I leaped into the lake, without even my gee-string on, and swam far out, singing.... * * * * *