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 San Francisco