Davidson knew one of these men, and nodded to him in passing; but his acquaintance called out: "Isn't he in a filthy temper?
He's been like that ever since." The speaker laughed aloud, while all the others sat smiling.

Davidson stopped.
"Yes, rather." His feelings were, he told us, those of bewildered resignation; but of course that was no more visible to the others than the emotions of a turtle when it withdraws into its shell.
"It seems unreasonable," he murmured thoughtfully.
"Oh, but they had a scrap!" the other said.
"What do you mean?
Was there a fight!--a fight with Heyst ?" asked Davidson, much perturbed, if somewhat incredulous.
"Heyst?
No, these two--the bandmaster, the fellow who's taking these women about and our Schomberg.

Signor Zangiacomo ran amuck in the morning, and went for our worthy friend.

I tell you, they were rolling on the floor together on this very veranda, after chasing each other all over the house, doors slamming, women screaming, seventeen of them, in the dining-room; Chinamen up the trees.

Hey, John?
You climb tree to see the fight, eh ?" The boy, almond-eyed and impassive, emitted a scornful grunt, finished wiping the table, and withdrew.
"That's what it was--a real, go-as-you-please scrap.