Some excitement occurred a score of feet away from them, and to
the sound of exclamations and blows a surge ran through the
crowd. A large man, wedged sidewise in the jam, was shoved
against Saxon, crushing her closely against Billy, who reached
across to the man's shoulder with a massive thrust that was not
so slow as usual. An involuntary grunt came from the victim, who
turned his head, showing sun-reddened blond skin and unmistakable
angry Irish eyes.

"What's eatin' yeh?" he snarled.

"Get off your foot; you're standin' on it," was Billy's
contemptuous reply, emphasized by an increase of thrust.

The Irishman grunted again and made a frantic struggle to twist
his body around, but the wedging bodies on either side held him
in a vise.

"I'll break yer ugly face for yeh in a minute," he announced in
wrath-thick tones.

Then his own face underwent transformation. The snarl left the
lips, and the angry eyes grew genial.

"An' sure an' it's yerself," he said. "I didn't know it was yeh
a-shovin'. I seen yeh lick the Terrible Swede, if yeh WAS robbed
on the decision."

"No, you didn't, Bo," Billy answered pleasantly. "You saw me take