The sudden comprehension of all this stung like the lash of a whip, transformed him again into a fighter, a soldier of the sort who refuses to acknowledge defeat.

His eyes darkened, his lips pressed together in a straight line.
Carroll lay helpless, inert, his head hanging down against the neck of his horse.

The Sergeant jerked him erect, roughly beating him into consciousness; nor did he desist until the fellow's eyes opened in a dull stare.
"I 'll pound the life out of you unless you brace up, George," he muttered.

"That 's right--get mad if you want to.

It will do you good.