'Why should I pretend to be sorry?
It was now or in three months.

And for the other poor devil's sake I am glad.' He glared at me for a moment in speechless anger.
At last, 'I should like to have you tied up!' he said between his teeth.
'I should think that you had had enough of tying up for one day!' I retorted.

'But there,' I went on contemptuously, 'it comes of making officers out of the canaille.

Dogs love blood.

The teamster must lash something if he can no longer lash his horses.' We were back, a sombre little procession, at the wooden bridge when I said this.