“Yes, sir.”

Brown said:  “Shut your mouth!  You never heard anything of the kind.”

By and by Henry came into the pilot-house, unaware of any trouble.  Brown set upon him in his ugliest manner.

“Here, why didn’t you tell me we had got to land at that plantation?” he demanded.

Henry was always polite, always gentle.

“I did tell you, Mr. Brown.”

“It’s a lie.”

Sam Clemens could stand Brown’s abuse of himself, but not of Henry.  He said:  “You lie yourself.  He did tell you.”

Brown was dazed for a moment and then he shouted: 

“I’ll attend to your case in half a minute!” and ordered Henry out of the pilot-house.

The boy had started, when Brown suddenly seized him by the collar and struck him in the face.—­[In the Mississippi book the writer states that Brown started to strike Henry with a large piece of coal; but, in a letter written soon after the occurrence to Mrs. Orion Clemens, he says:  “Henry started out of the pilot-house-Brown jumped up and collared him —­turned him half-way around and struck him in the face!-and him nearly six feet high-struck my little brother.  I was wild from that moment.  I left the boat to steer herself, and avenged the insult—­and the captain said I was right."]—­Instantly Sam was upon Brown, with a heavy stool, and stretched him on the floor.  Then all the bitterness and indignation that had been smoldering for months flamed up, and, leaping upon Brown and holding him with his knees, he pounded him with his fists until strength and fury gave out.  Brown struggled free, then, and with pilot instinct sprang to the wheel, for the vessel had been drifting and might have got into trouble.  Seeing there was no further danger, he seized a spy-glass as a weapon.

“Get out of this here pilot-house,” he raged.

But his subordinate was not afraid of him now.

“You should leave out the ‘here,’” he drawled, critically.  “It is understood, and not considered good English form.”

“Don’t you give me none of your airs,” yelled Brown.  “I ain’t going to stand nothing more from you.”

“You should say, ‘Don’t give me any of your airs,’” Sam said, sweetly, “and the last half of your sentence almost defies correction.”

A group of passengers and white-aproned servants, assembled on the deck forward, applauded the victor.

Brown turned to the wheel, raging and growling.  Clemens went below, where he expected Captain Klinefelter to put him in irons, perhaps, for it was thought to be felony to strike a pilot.  The officer took him into his private room and closed the door.  At first he looked at the culprit thoughtfully, then he made some inquiries: 

    “Did you strike him first?” Captain Klinefelter asked.

    “Yes, sir.”

    “What with?”

    “A stool, sir.”

    “Hard?”

    “Middling, sir.”