"Ah nebber seen no odder w'ite man dat had such a ha'd time beliebing w'at Ah done tole him!" "I've got to land this wicked brute, some way, or I may as well conclude that the jig is danced through, as far as I am concerned," Reade thought ruefully.
Panting, quivering, in dread of being choked again, and much harder, Tom tried to think fast in the effort to devise some new plan for worsting this terrible opponent.
"I've been fooling myself all along," Tom told himself, with a sinking heart.

"I've been up against several men who were too weak or too cowardly to fight, and I've somehow gained the opinion that I could fight.

But this black fellow has taken all the conceit out of me.

I was a fool ever to think that I could fight! I'm nothing but a piece of jelly---or putty!" Of a sudden Reade tried to wrench himself free at the collar, at the same time raising his right knee with a forceful jerk.

He wanted to drive that knee into the black man's wind.
But Sambo seemed to guess the plan without trouble.