Naturally, they were angry with Jack and
became anxious to get rid of him, and by and by he gave them an
excuse. He fought with and killed a man, a famous young fighter, who
had many relations and friends, and some of these determined to avenge
his death. And one night a band of nine men came to the rancho where
Jack was sleeping, and leaving two of their number at the door to kill
him if he attempted to escape that way, the others burst into his
room, their long knives in their hands. As the door was thrown open
Jack woke, and instantly divining the cause of the intrusion, he
snatched up the knife near his pillow and sprang like a cat out of his
bed; and then began a strange and bloody fight, one man, stark naked,
with a short-bladed knife in his hand, against seven men with their
long facons, in a small pitch-dark room. The advantage Jack had was
that his bare feet made no sound on the clay floor, and that he knew
the exact position of a few pieces of furniture in the room. He had,
too, a marvellous agility, and the intense darkness was all in his
favour, as the attackers could hardly avoid wounding one another. At
all events, the result was that three of them were killed and the
other four wounded, all more or less seriously. And from that time
Jack was allowed to live among them as a harmless, peaceful member of
the community, so long as no person twitted him with being a gringo.
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