He hated him with a virulency that was death.

Neither the call of freedom nor the threat of prison could keep him from wreaking vengeance now.

Without a sound he was at Mercer's throat, and the scream ended in a choking shriek.

His fingers dug into flabby flesh, and his clenched fist beat again and again into Mercer's face.
He went to the ground, crushing the human serpent under him.

And he continued to strike and choke as he had never struck or choked another man, all other things overwhelmed by his mad desire to tear into pieces this two-legged English vermin who was too foul to exist on the face of the earth.
And he still continued to strike--even after the path lay clear once more between him and the river..