as angry in every one of his limbs. He stamped, he shook his fist,
he shook his head. The very tips of his ears looked scarlet with rage.
Every now and then he faced round to the spectators, and appealed to
them--or to a stout woman with a green fan, who was almost as red and
angry as himself, and who always rushed forward when addressed, and
shook the green fan in Sullivan's face.

"You are an aristocrat!" stormed the young man. "A pampered, insolent
aristocrat! A dog of an Englishman! A _scelerat_! Don't suppose you are
to trample upon us for nothing! We are Frenchmen, you beggarly
islander--Frenchmen, do you hear?"

A growl of sympathetic indignation ran through the crowd, and "_a bas
les aristocrats_--_a bas les Anglais_!" broke out here and there.

"In the devil's name, Sullivan," said Dalrymple, shouldering his way up
to the object of these agreeable menaces, "what have you been after, to
bring this storm about your ears?"

"Pshaw! nothing at all," replied he with a mocking laugh, and a
contemptuous gesture. "I danced with a pretty girl, and treated her to
champagne afterwards. Her mother and brother hunted us out, and spoiled
our flirtation. That's the whole story."

Something in the laugh and gesture--something, too, perhaps in the
language which they could not understand, appeared to give the last
aggravation to both of Sullivan's assailants. I saw the young man raise
his arm to strike--I saw Dalrymple fell him with a blow that would have
stunned an ox--I saw the crowd close in, heard the storm break out on
every side, and, above it all, the deep, strong tones of Dalrymple's
voice, saying:--

"To the boat, boys! Follow me."

In another moment he had flung himself into the crowd, dealt one or two
sounding blows to left and right, cleared a passage for himself and us,
and sped away down one of the narrow walks leading to the river.
Presently, having taken one or two turnings, none of which seemed to
lead to the spot we sought, we came upon an open space full of piled-up
benches, pyramids of empty bottles, boxes, baskets, and all kinds of
lumber. Here we paused to listen and take breath.

We had left the crowd behind us, but they were still within hearing.

"By Jove!" said Dalrymple, "I don't know which way to go. I believe we
are on the wrong side of the island."

"And I believe they are after us," added Sullivan, peering into the
baskets. "By all that's fortunate, here are the fireworks! Has anybody