m from crannies in the wall
combined to make him shoot, since further means of showing malice were
denied him; and he raised the long butt to his shoulder with meaning
that was unmistakable.

And so, with sorrow that the East should be so lacking in good
fellowship, but with the ready instinct of men who have been trained for
war, they closed with him from two directions, swiftly, bull-dog-wise,
and took his gun away. And how could even an able seaman help the dog's
taking a share in the game again?

So far, nobody had done anything intended to be wrong--least of all the
dog. The Arab was defending institutions; Crothers and Joe Byng were
bent on holiday, and full of kind regards for anything that lived; and
the dog was living dogfully up to well-bred-terrier tradition. It was as
if two harmless chemicals had met and blended into nitroglycerin.

Deprived of his gun, the Arab drew a knife; and no British sailor lives
who does not understand the quick-loosed answer to the glint of steel.
Fist and boot both landed on the Arab quicker than his own thought
served the knife, and the weight of quick concussions jarred him into
all but coma. This time Byng caught the dog in time and held him back,
leaving Curley Crothers to finish matters by making the long knife prize
of war. Once more he helped the Arab on his feet, smiling hugely and
gentling the iron sinews with huge paws that could have wrenched them
all apart if need be.

"Take my advice, cully, and weigh quick!" he counseled, looking the Arab
over and making sure the unfortunate had not been too much hurt. "Run
for shelter where you can cool your bearings! Run off to the mosque and
pray, to make up for all that cussing. Go and be good! And next time you
meets us, be friendly--see?"

The Arab was too apoplectically angry to comply, but Crothers took him
by both shoulders and shoved him; and finding himself shot forward
out of reach, seeing safety ahead and its possible corollary of awful
vengeance, he suddenly achieved discretion and scampered through the gap
in the wall.

"'E's gone to fetch his pals. Look out, mate!" warned Joe Byng.

"Not 'im!" vowed Crothers. "'E's 'ad enough, that's all! We've seen the
last of 'im!"

And the most amazing thing of all was that Crothers believed just what
he said--Curley Crothers, to whom Red Sea and Persian Gulf ports were
as an open book, and to whom the Arab customs and religion and
reprehensible tendencies were currently