jaw, came a step nearer and spoke again, a low word with a rumble like
the menace of a bull or a storm about to break.

With a sudden unexpected movement Stephen's arm shot forth and struck
the fellow in the jaw, reeling him half across the room into the crowd.

With a snarl like a stung animal Pat recovered himself and rushed at
Stephen, hurling himself with a stream of oaths, and calling curses down
upon himself if he did not make Stephen utter worse before he was done
with him. Pat was the "man" who was in college for football. It took the
united efforts of his classmates, his frat., and the faculty to keep his
studies within decent hailing distance of eligibility for playing. He
came from a race of bullies whose culture was all in their fists.

Pat went straight for the throat of his victim. His fighting blood was
up and he was mad clear down to the bone. Nobody could give him a blow
like that in the presence of others and not suffer for it. What had
started as a joke had now become real with Pat; and the frenzy of his
own madness quickly spread to those daring spirits who were about him
and who disliked Stephen for his strength of character.

They clinched, and Stephen, fresh from his father's remote Western farm,
matched his mighty, untaught strength against the trained bully of a
city street.

For a moment there was dead silence while the crowd in breathless
astonishment watched and held in check their own eagerness. Then the mob
spirit broke forth as some one called out:

"Pray for a miracle, Stevie! Pray for a miracle! You'll need it, old