But even as his men ran in, stooped and drew them away the conqueror exclaimed: "I'll not! I tell you I won't maim you, free or no free! Get up!" So Woodhull knew his eyes were spared, whatever might be the pain of the sore nerves along the socket bone.
He rose to his knees, to his feet, his face ghastly in his own sudden sense of defeat, the worse for his victor's magnanimity, if such it might be called.

Humiliation was worse than pain.

He staggered, sobbing.
"I won't take nothing for a gift from you!" But now the men stood between them, like and like.

Young Jed Wingate pushed back his man.
"It's done!" said he.

"You shan't fight no more with the man that let you up.