The first gate he came to he started in; I had neither whip nor spur, and so I simply argued the case with him.

He resisted argument, but ultimately yielded to insult and abuse.

He backed out of that gate and steered for another one on the other side of the street.
I triumphed by my former process.

Within the next six hundred yards he crossed the street fourteen times and attempted thirteen gates, and in the meantime the tropical sun was beating down and threatening to cave the top of my head in, and I was literally dripping with perspiration.
He abandoned the gate business after that and went along peaceably enough, but absorbed in meditation.

I noticed this latter circumstance, and it soon began to fill me with apprehension.