opposite side, a young man had singled out
Saxon. His dress was tough. His companions, male and female, were tough.
His face was inflamed, his eyes touched with wildness.

"Hey, you!" he called. "You with the velvet slippers. Me for you."

The girl beside him put her arm around his neck and tried to hush him,
and through the mufflement of her embrace they could hear him gurgling:

"I tell you she's some goods. Watch me go across an' win her from them
cheap skates."

"Butchertown hoodlums," Mary sniffed.

Saxon's eyes encountered the eyes of the girl, who glared hatred across
at her. And in Billy's eyes she saw moody anger smouldering. The eyes
were more sullen, more handsome than ever, and clouds and veils and
lights and shadowe shifted and deepened in the blue of them until they
gave her a sense of unfathomable depth. He had stopped talking, and he
made no effort to talk.

"Don't start a rough house, Bill," Bert cautioned. "They're from across
the hay an' they don't know you, that's all."

Bert stood up suddenly, stepped over to the other table, whispered
briefly, and came back. Every face at the table was turned on Billy. The
offender arose brokenly, shook off the detaining hand of his girl, and
came over. He was a large man, with a hard, malignant face and bitter
eyes. Also, he was a subdued man.

"You're Big Bill Roberts," he said thickly, clinging to the table as he
reeled. "I take my hat off to you. I apologize. I admire your taste in
skirts, an' take it from me that's a compliment; but I did'nt know who
you was. If I'd knowed you was Bill Roberts there wouldn't been a peep
from my fly-trap. D'ye get me? I apologize. Will you shake hands?"

Gruffly, Billy said, "It's all right--forget it, sport;" and sullenly
he shook hands and with a slow, massive movement thrust the other back
toward his own table.

Saxon was glowing. Here was a man, a protector, something to lean
against, of whom even the Butchertown toughs were afraid as soon as his
name was mentioned.

CHAPTER IV

After dinner there were two dances in the pavilion, and then the band
led the way to the race track for the games. The dancers followed, and
all through the grounds the picnic parties left their tables to join in.
Five thousand packed the grassy slopes of the amphitheater and swarmed
inside the race track. Here, first of the events, the men were lining
up for a tug of war. The contest was between the Oakland Bricklayers and
the Sa