e heard Rudstock roar like a lion, and saw him
advance, swinging his chair; down went two young men in khaki, down went
a third in mufti; a very tall young soldier, also armed with a chair,
dashed forward, and the two fought in single combat. Wilderton had got
on his feet by now, and, adjusting his eyeglass, for he could see little
without, he caught up a hymn-book, and, flinging it at the crowd with
all his force, shouted: "Hoo-bloodyray!" and followed with his fists
clenched. One of them encountered what must have been the jaw of an
Australian, it was so hard against his hand; he received a vicious punch
in the ribs and was again seated on the ground. He could still hear his
friend roaring, and the crash of chairs meeting in mid-air. Something
fell heavily on him. It was Rudstock--he was insensible. There was a
momentary lull, and peering up as best he could from underneath the
body, Wilderton saw that the platform had been cleared of all its
original inhabitants, and was occupied mainly by youths in navy-blue and
khaki. A voice called out:

"Order! Silence!"

Rubbing Rudstock's temples with brandy from a flask which he had had the
foresight to slip into his pocket, he listened as best he could, with
the feet of the crowd jostling his anatomy.

"Here we are, boys," the voice was saying, "and here we'll always be
when these treacherous blighters try their games on. No peace, no peace
at any price! We've got to show them that we won't have it. Leave the
women alone--though they ought to be ashamed of themselves; but for the
men--the skunks--shooting's too good for them. Let them keep off the
course or we'll make them. We've broken up this meeting, and we'll break
up every meeting that tries to talk of peace. Three cheers for the old
flag!"

During the cheers which followed Wilderton was discovering signs of
returning consciousness in his friend. Rudstock had begun to breathe
heavily, and, pouring some brandy into his mouth, he propped him up as
best he could against a wooden structure, which he suddenly perceived to
be the chapel's modest pulpit. A thought came to his dazed brain. If he
could get up into that, as if he had dropped from Heaven, they might
almost listen to him. He disengaged his legs from under Rudstock, and
began crawling up the steps on hands and knees. Once in the pulpit he
sat on the floor below the level of visibility, getting his breath, and
listening to the cheers. Then, smoothing his hair, he