He darted to Psmith's side.

'This is no place for us,' observed the latter sadly. 'Shift ho, I
think. Come on.'

They dashed simultaneously for the spot where the crowd was thinnest.
The ring which had formed round Mike and Bill had broken up as the
result of the intervention of Bill's allies, and at the spot for which
they ran only two men were standing. And these had apparently made up
their minds that neutrality was the best policy, for they made no
movement to stop them. Psmith and Mike charged through the gap, and
raced for the road.

The suddenness of the move gave them just the start they needed. Mike
looked over his shoulder. The crowd, to a man, seemed to be following.
Bill, excavated from beneath the publican, led the field. Lying a good
second came a band of three, and after them the rest in a bunch.

They reached the road in this order.

Some fifty yards down the road was a stationary tram. In the ordinary
course of things it would probably have moved on long before Psmith and
Mike could have got to it; but the conductor, a man with sporting blood
in him, seeing what appeared to be the finish of some Marathon Race,
refrained from giving the signal, and moved out into the road to
observe events more clearly, at the same time calling to the driver,
who joined him. Passengers on the roof stood up to get a good view.
There was some cheering.

Psmith and Mike reached the tram ten yards to the good; and, if it had