in me face at the loss av me property.It's no better than a pack of thieves ye are.""Tieves!" answered Perault, in quick anger."Dere's one beeg, black, hairy tief not far 'way dat's got hees money for dat pony two--three tam overe."Choking with rage, Carroll took one step toward him, kicked his chair clean from under him, and deposited the Frenchman on the floor amid a shout of laughter from the crowd.In blazing wrath Perault was on his feet with a bound, and, swinging his chair around his head, hurled it full in the face of his enemy.Carroll caught it on his arm and came rushing at the Frenchman.
"You one beeg black tief," shrieked Perault, drawing a knife and striking savagely at the big Irishman.As he delivered his blow Carroll caught him by the wrist, wrenched the knife from his grasp, seizing him by the throat proceeded to choke him.The crowd stood looking on, hesitating to interfere.A fight was understood in that country to be the business of no man save those immediately concerned.Besides this, Carroll was dreaded for his great strength and his furious temper, and no man cared to imperil his life by attacking him.
"Blank yer cursed soul!" cried Carroll through his clenched teeth.
"It's this Oi've been waintin' f'r many a day, an' now by the powers Oi'll be takin' the life of yez, so Oi will."His threat would undoubtedly have been carried out, for Perault was bent far back, his face was black, and his tongue protruded from his wide opens mouth.But at this moment the door opened and Shock quietly stepped in.For a single instant he stood gazing in amazement upon the strange scene, then stepping quickly behind Carroll, whose back was toward the door, he caught his wrist.
"You are killing the man," he said quietly.
"Oi am that same!" hissed Carroll, his eyes bloodshot with the light of murder in them."An' by all the powers of hell Oi'll be havin'
yer heart's blood if ye don't kape aff."
"Indeed, then, he's too small a man for you, and as to myself, we can see about that later," said Shock quietly.
He closed his fingers on the wrist he held.The hand gripping Perault's throat opened quickly, allowing the Frenchman to fall to the floor.Swinging round with a hoarse cry, the big Irishman aimed a terrific blow at Shock's head.But Shock, catching the blow on his arm, drew Carroll sharply toward him, at the same time giving a quick downward twist to the wrist he held, a trick of the Japanese wrestlers the 'Varsity men had been wont to practise.There was a slight crack, a howl of pain, and Carroll sank writhing on the floor, with Shock's grip still on his wrist.
"Let me up," he roared.
"Will you let the little man alone?" asked Shock quietly.
"Let me up, blank ye! It's yer heart's blood will pay for this.""Will you leave the little man alone?" asked Shock in a relentlessly even tone.
"Yis, yis," groaned Carroll."Me wrist's bruk, so it is.But Oi'll be afther doin' f'r yez, ye blank, blank--"Carroll's profanity flowed in a copious stream.
"As to that," said Shock, quietly stepping back from him, "we can discuss that later; but it is a shame for a man like you to be choking a little chap like that."The old football scrimmage smile was on Shock's face as he stood waiting for Carroll to rise.The whole incident had occurred so unexpectedly and so suddenly that the crowd about stood amazed, quite unable to realise just what had happened.
After a time the big Irishman slowly rose, holding his wounded wrist and grinding out curses.Then suddenly seizing with his uninjured hand the chair which Perault had thrown at him, he raised it aloft and with a wild yell brought it down upon Shock's head.With his yell mingled a shrill cry.It was little Patsy.He had stolen in behind his father, and with eyes growing wider and wider had stood listening to his father's groans and curses.
Gradually the meaning of the scene dawned upon little Patsy's mind.
