"'Bosh!' cried a voice. 'Hear him!'
"'D——d slave owner!' shouted another.
"'Throw him out!'
"Watkins thrust himself forward.
"'Bah! I'm not afraid of any rum-drinking Southerner! He hasn't the nerve to shoot!'
"'Look out!' called some one.
"There was a sudden rush from outside and Watkins either sprang or was pushed, probably the latter, through the door. At the same instant there was a flash, a report, a snarl, a loud cry, a tumult of feet. The smoke cleared slowly away, showing the door empty. Across the threshold lay a sophomore, while over him stood Jim, motionless, with his feet on the man's chest and his teeth close to his face.
"Randolph laid the smoking pistol upon the table and pointed grimly to a splintered crack in the strip above the door.
"'Come here, Jim!' he called. The dog unwillingly drew away, still eying the man on the floor, who, finding himself unhurt, began to blubber loudly.
"'You are free, suh,' remarked Randolph scornfully. 'Don't let me detain you.'