The
wherry was a yard or two from the shore when I jumped for its stern.
I lighted firm on the wood, and for a moment looked Muckle John in the
face. I saw a countenance lean like a starved wolf, with great weals as
of old wounds on cheek and brow. But only for a, second, for as I
balanced myself to step forward he rammed the butt of the pole in my
chest, so that I staggered and fell plump in the river.
The water was only up to my middle, but before I could clamber back he
had shipped his oars, and was well into the centre of the stream.
I stood staring like a zany, while black anger filled my heart. I
plucked my pistol forth, and for a second was on the verge of murder,
for I could have shot him like a rabbit. But God mercifully restrained
my foolish passion, and presently the boat and the rower vanished in
the evening haze.
"This is a bonny beginning!" thought I, as I waded through the mud to
the shore. I was wearing my best clothes in honour of my arrival, and
they were all fouled and plashing.
Then on the bank above me I saw the fellow who had run into me and
hindered my catching Muckle John on dry land. He was shaking with
laughter.
I was silly and hot-headed in those days, and my wetting had not
disposed me to be laughed at.
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