down, with all their three
hundred and sixty pounds of weight, in a long crashing fall, Watson
underneath. He lay with his head touching the rear wall of the large
room. The street was a hundred and fifty feet away, and he did some
quick thinking. His first thought was to avoid trouble. He had no wish
to get into the papers of this, his childhood town, where many of his
relatives and family friends still lived.

So it was that he locked his arms around the man on top of him, held him
close, and waited for the help to come that must come in response to the
crash of the fall. The help came--that is, six men ran in from the bar
and formed about in a semi-circle.

"Take him off, fellows," Watson said. "I haven't struck him, and I don't
want any fight."

But the semi-circle remained silent. Watson held on and waited. Patsy,
after various vain efforts to inflict damage, made an overture.

"Leggo o' me an' I'll get off o' yeh," said he.

Watson let go, but when Patsy scrambled to his feet he stood over his
recumbent foe, ready to strike.

"Get up," Patsy commanded.

His voice was stern and implacable, like the voice of God calling to
judgment, and Watson knew there was no mercy there.

"Stand back and I'll get up," he countered.

"If yer a gentleman, get up," quoth Patsy, his pale blue eyes aflame
with wrath, his fist ready for a crushing blow.

At the same moment he drew his foot back to kick the other in the face.
Watson blocked the kick with his crossed arms and sprang to his feet so
quickly that he was in a clinch with his antagonist before the latter
could strike. Holding him, Watson spoke to the onlookers:

"Take him away from me, fellows. You see I am not striking him. I don't
want to fight. I want to get out of here."

The circle did not move nor speak. Its silence was ominous and sent a
chill to Watson's heart.

Patsy made an effort to throw him, which culminated in his putting Patsy
on his back. Tearing loose from him, Watson sprang to his feet and made
for the door. But the circle of men was interposed a wall. He noticed
the white, pasty faces, the kind that never see the sun, and knew that
the men who barred his way were the nightprowlers and preying beasts
of the city jungle. By them he was thrust back upon the pursuing,
bull-rushing Patsy.

Again it was a clinch, in which, in momentary safety, Watson appealed
to the gang. And again his words fell on deaf ears. Then it was that
he knew of many si