“Throwin’ my apple in the manure, will yeh!” he yelled.  “I’ll larn ye!  Pick that apple up!”

I reached for it with trembling hand, and held it out to him.

“It ain’t fit for anything but the hogs!” he yelled.  “Eat it, hog!”

I looked at the filthy thing, and raised my hand to my mouth; but before I touched it with my lips a great change came over me.  I trembled still more, now; but it was not with fear.  I suddenly felt that if I could kill Ace, I would be willing to die.  I was willing to die trying to kill him.  I could not get away from him because he was between me and the door, but now suddenly I did not want to get away.  I wanted to get at him.  I threw the apple down.

“Pick that apple up and eat it,” he said in a low tone, looking me straight in the eye, “or I’ll pound you till you can’t walk.”

“I won’t,” said I.

Ace rushed at me, and as he rushed, he struck me in the face.  I went down, and he piled on me, hitting me as he could.  I liked the feel of his blows; it was good to realize that they did not hurt me half so much as his abuse had done.  I did not know how to fight, but I grappled with him fiercely.  I reached for his hair, and he tried to bite my thumb, actually getting it in his mouth, but I jerked it aside and caught his cheek in my grip, my thumb inside the cheek-pouch, and my fingers outside.  I felt a hot thrill of joy as my nails sank into his cheek inside and out, and he cringed.  I held him at arm’s length, helpless, and with his head drawn all askew; and still keeping my unfair hold, I rolled him over, and coming on top of him, thrust the other thumb in the other side of his mouth, frenziedly trying to rip his cheeks, and pounding his head on the deck.  We rolled back into the corner, where he jerked my thumbs from his mouth, now bleeding at the corners, and desperately tried to roll me.  My hand came into touch with a horseshoe on the stable floor, which I picked up, and filled with joy at the consciousness that I was stronger than he, I began beating him over the face and head with it, with no thought of anything but killing him.  He turned over on his face and began trying to shield his head with his arms, at which I tore like a crazy boy, beating at arms, head, hands and neck with the dull horseshoe, and screaming, “I’ll kill you!  I’ll kill you!  I’ll kill you!”

In the meantime, it gradually dawned on Ace that he was licked, and he began yelling, “Enough!  Enough!” which according to the rules of the game entitled him to be let alone; but I knew nothing about the rules of the game.  I saw the blood spurting from one or two cuts in his scalp.  I felt it warm and slimy on my hands, and I rained my blows on him, madly and blindly, but with cruel effect after all.  I did not see the captain when he came in.  I only felt his grip on my right arm, as he seized it and snatched the horseshoe from me.  I did not hear what he said, though I heard him saying