where life moves
irregularly and where adventures are to be gained--as the Admiral was to
learn to his cost.

He was hurrying down one of the long, narrow, stone-flagged lanes
between the double lines of crouching, disheveled women and of dirty
children who sat on the hollowed steps of the houses, and basked in
the autumn sun. At one side was a barrowman with a load of walnuts, and
beside the barrow a bedraggled woman with a black fringe and a chequered
shawl thrown over her head. She was cracking walnuts and picking them
out of the shells, throwing out a remark occasionally to a rough man in
a rabbit-skin cap, with straps under the knees of his corduroy trousers,
who stood puffing a black clay pipe with his back against the wall. What
the cause of the quarrel was, or what sharp sarcasm from the woman's
lips pricked suddenly through that thick skin may never be known, but
suddenly the man took his pipe in his left hand, leaned forward, and
deliberately struck her across the face with his right. It was a slap
rather than a blow, but the woman gave a sharp cry and cowered up
against the barrow with her hand to her cheek.

"You infernal villain!" cried the Admiral, raising his stick. "You brute
and blackguard!"

"Garn!" growled the rough, with the deep rasping intonation of a savage.
"Garn out o' this or I'll----" He took a step forward with uplifted
hand, but in an instant down came cut number three upon his wrist, and
cut number five across his thigh, and cut number one full in the center
of his rabbit-skin cap. It was not a heavy stick, but it was strong
enough to leave a good red weal wherever it fell. The rough yelled
with pain, and rushed in, hitting with both hands, and kicking with his
ironshod boots, but the Admiral had still a quick foot and a true eye,
so that he bounded backwards and sideways, still raining a shower, of
blows upon his savage antagonist. Suddenly, however, a pair of arms
closed round his neck, and glancing backwards he caught a glimpse of the
black coarse fringe of the woman whom he had befriended, "I've got him!"
she shrieked. "I'll 'old 'im. Now, Bill, knock the tripe out of him!"
Her grip was as strong as a man's, and her wrist pressed like an iron
bar upon the Admiral's throat. He made a desperate effort to disengage
himself, but the most that he could do was to swing her round, so as to
place her between his adversary and himself. As it proved, it was the
very best thing that he could h