am beating him!"

And out of the tangle of his gesticulations, the whip-lash swooped
across the sidewalk and cut Waters heavily across the neck.

In the mere surprise of it and the instance of the pain, Waters made
a noise like a yelp, a little spurt of involuntary sound. And then
the tinder lighted.

"Beating him!" intoned the istvostchik, mighty in his moment. "Beat."

It was the last coherent syllable which he uttered in the affair.
With a rush Waters cleared the sidewalk and was upon him, had him by
the pulp of clothes which enveloped him and tore him across the wheel
to the ground. They went down together across the curb, legs in the
gutter among the wheels, a convulsive bundle of battle that tore
apart and whirled together again as the American, with all the
long-compressed springs of his being suddenly released and vibrant,
poured his resentment and soul-soreness into his fists and found balm
for them in the mere spite of hitting somebody.

It was a short fight. The istvostchik, even under his padding, was a
biggish man and vicious with liquor; he grappled at his antagonist
earnestly enough, to drag him down and bite and worry and kick in the
manner of his kind. But the breast of the worn linen blouse ripped in
his clutch and a pair of man-stopping punches on the mouth and the
eye drove him backwards towards the wall. It was then he began to
squeal.

There were spectators by now, dvorniks who came running and
passers-by upon the other side who appeared from nowhere as though
suddenly materialized. There was a sparse circle of them about the
fight when it ceased, with the istvostchik down and flattened in the
angle of the wall and the pavement, making small timid noises like a
complaining kitten. Waters, with the mist of battle clearing, from
his eyes, saw them all about him, dark, well-wrapped figures,
watching him silently or whispering together. He sensed their
profound disapproval of him and his proceedings.

"That'll keep you quiet for a while," he spoke down to the wreck of
the istvostchik.

Only moans answered him; he grunted and turned to go. From the
nearest group of spectators a single figure detached itself and moved
towards him, blocking his path. It revealed itself at close quarters
as a stout, middle-aged man, prosperously fur-coated, with a spike of
dark beard the inevitable public-spirited citizen of the provinces.

"You must explain this disturbance," he said to Waters importantly.
"Y