Now, in the further making of
this particular history, sounded a lusty whoop from the opposite
direction; such a battle slogan as only the Anglo-Saxon gives. It
emanated from Galpy the bounder, bounding now, indeed, at full
speed up the slope, followed by two of his fellow railroad men,
flannel-clad and still perspiring from their afternoon's cricket.
Against bare legs a cricket bat is a highly dissuasive argument.
The Britons swung low and hard for the ancient right of the breed
to break into a row wherever white men are in the minority against
other races. The downhill wing of the mob being much the weakest,
opened up for them with little resistance, leaving them a free path
to the cavalryman, to whose side Perkins, with staff ready brandished,
had advanced from his shelter.
"Wot's the merry game?" inquired the cockney cheerfully.
Before them the crowd swayed and parted, and there appeared,
lifted by many arms, a figure with a dead-white face streaked with
blood, running from a great gash in the scalp.
"He went down in front of my horse," explained the Hochwald
secretary coolly.
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