Madonna Litta

It was at this moment that I chanced to glance at Johansen. His big fists were clenching and unclenching, and his face was positively fiendish, so malignantly did he look at Johnson. I noticed a black discoloration, still faintly visible, under Johansen's eye, a mark of the thrashing he had received a few nights before from the sailor. For the first time I began to divine that something terrible was about to be enacted- what, I could not imagine. ¡¡¡¡'Do you know what happens to men who say what you've said about my slop-chest and me?' Wolf Larsen was demanding. ¡¡¡¡'I know, sir,' was the answer. ¡¡¡¡'What?' Wolf Larsen demanded sharply and imperatively. ¡¡¡¡'What you and the mate there are going to do to me, sir.' ¡¡¡¡At this Larsen sprang from the sitting posture like a wild animal, a tiger, and like a tiger covered the intervening space in an avalanche of fury that Johnson strove vainly to fend off. He threw one arm down to protect the stomach, the other arm up to protect the head; but Wolf Larsen's fist drove midway between, on the chest,