"It's my cattle he took! It's me be's ruined! What do I care if the Germans hang me?
Let me have a crack at him--just one!" "Use your fists all you care to!" grinned Will.
But Brown was no match for the Greek without weapons--very likely no match for him with them.

Coutlass sat still and grinned, while Brown remained in the back of the tent, glaring.
"Bah!" sneered Coutlass.

"Of what use is being sulky?
I found cattle in a village.

How should I know whose cattle they were?
Why blame me?
The Masai got the cattle, not I! They took them from me, and they'd have taken them from you just the same! You lost nothing by my lifting them first! Gassharamminy! By blazes! We're all in the same boat! Let's be friendly, and treat one another like gentlemen! We're all in the power of the Germans, unless we can think of a way to escape! I and my party are under arrest.

So will you be by to-morrow! I shall tell a tale to-morrow that will keep you by the heels for a month at least while they investigate! Wait and see!" "Get out of this tent!" growled Fred in the dead-level voice he uses when he means to brook no refusal.
"Presently!" Fred made a spring at him, but Coutlass was on his feet with the speed of a cat, and just outside the tent in time to avoid the swing of Fred's fist.