--I know that Byron was a bad man, said Boland.

--Here, catch hold of this heretic, Heron called out. In a moment
Stephen was a prisoner.

--Tate made you buck up the other day, Heron went on, about the heresy
in your essay.

--I'll tell him tomorrow, said Boland.

--Will you? said Stephen. You'd be afraid to open your lips.

--Afraid?

--Ay. Afraid of your life.

--Behave yourself! cried Heron, cutting at Stephen's legs with his
cane.

It was the signal for their onset. Nash pinioned his arms behind while
Boland seized a long cabbage stump which was lying in the gutter.
Struggling and kicking under the cuts of the cane and the blows of the
knotty stump Stephen was borne back against a barbed wire fence.

--Admit that Byron was no good.

--No.

--Admit.