ting it slide first to one side then the other, men were so tired they could hardly keep their feet. The Englishman looked down on the stubborn fellow, with his chopped, bleeding face and blackened, defiant eyes. A hard swing at unprotected jaw would stretch him out in broiling heat, but he did not make the blow. Instead he pushed the frothing fellow away from him.
“Go to your corner and cool off,” he panted. “Yes, I'm a thief. Go on away; I don't want knock you out.”
He turned his back deliberately and walked to his own awning. The crowd stared, absolutely dumfounded by this unexpected turn of affairs. Greer himself stared, then moved forward automatically to continue his onslaught, when Hogan grabbed him.
“Come on back,” cried the Irishman. “Th' scoundrel has lift ye no ixcuse to fight him any more. He says he's a thafe, but I don't belave it. Come git a wash and let's wrap up yer hand.”
At that moment the dignified voice of Gaskin came from the forward pontoon. The crew
