So grievous did he think it that he could never possess the secret right to taunt truly in answer.
He had pictured red letters of curious revenge.

"We ARE mule drivers, are we ?" And now he was compelled to throw them away.
He presently wrapped his heart in the cloak of his pride and kept the flag erect.

He harangued his fellows, pushing against their chests with his free hand.

To those he knew well he made frantic appeals, beseeching them by name.

Between him and the lieutenant, scolding and near to losing his mind with rage, there was felt a subtle fellowship and equality.