"Ha!" said I, "have you no more English ?" He said impudently, "No." At that I boiled over, and lifted my hand to strike him; and he, drawing a knife from his rags, squatted back and grinned at me like a wildcat.
At that, forgetting everything but my anger, I ran in upon him, put aside his knife with my left, and struck him in the mouth with the right.

I was a strong lad and very angry, and he but a little man; and he went down before me heavily.

By good luck, his knife flew out of his hand as he fell.
I picked up both that and his brogues, wished him a good morning, and set off upon my way, leaving him barefoot and disarmed.

I chuckled to myself as I went, being sure I was done with that rogue, for a variety of reasons.

First, he knew he could have no more of my money; next, the brogues were worth in that country only a few pence; and, lastly, the knife, which was really a dagger, it was against the law for him to carry.
In about half an hour of walk, I overtook a great, ragged man, moving pretty fast but feeling before him with a staff.