Explore "On Time" by Oliver Optic on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The gruff-voiced conspirator rushed furiously toward me, and I retreated a few paces. The two in charge of the tar-kettle picked it up, and saved a portion of its contents. My heavy assailant was roused to a high pitch of anger by the opposition I made to his plans, and seemed to be disposed to proceed to extremities. He had picked up a club, and continued to advance. Once or twice he made a pass at me with his weapon, but I dodged the blow.
I was not angry, and I was cool. I saw that my foe was clumsy, if he was stout. As he threw his heavy cow-hide boots about, he reminded me of an elephant dancing a hornpipe. I saw two or three chances to hit him, but I refrained from doing so, for I did not want a broken head upon my conscience.