At the time of which we write the feeling between the college lads and the “townies” was rather bitter. Thus it came about that, as soon as Browning’s friends tried to help him, one of the watching toughs cried:
“Come on, fellers! Dey’re helpin’ der bloke git erway. It’s our duty ter stop dat.”
The gang didn’t care anything for duty, but they had been called upon to do a thing by their leader, and they did not hesitate about jumping in to the policeman’s aid.
Thus it came about that, in a very few seconds, a small riot was taking place there on that corner, where, a short time before, all had seemed hilarity and good nature.
The little cop clung tenaciously to Browning.
“I call on yez to hilp me arrist this spalpane!” he squealed.
“We’ll help yer!” declared the leader of the town lads.
“Yes you will!” flung back Bart Hodge, the hot color of anger rushing to his face. “Yes you will—not!”
Then he went at the leader of the gang, and, before that fellow was aware that he was attacked, Hodge cracked him a blow between the eyes that sent him sprawling.
The downfall of their leader seemed to infuriate the others.