It had seemed to him right and natural to assail the man who had struck him so painfully.

But now this same man was lying still and helpless under him.

And the sporting instincts of a hundred generations of thoroughbreds cried out to him not to mangle the defenseless.
Wherefore, he stood, irresolute; alert for sign of movement on the part of his foe.

But there was no such sign.

And the light bullet-graze on his hip was hurting like the very mischief.
Moreover, every window in the house beyond was blossoming forth into lights.