There was a low growl here.
“And a nice cowardly contemptible trick it was!” cried Uncle Bob, standing up taller than any man there, and with his eyes flashing. “I always thought Englishmen were plucky, straightforward fellows, above such blackguards’ tricks as these. Workmen! Why, the scoundrels who did this are unworthy of the name.”
There was another menacing growl here.
“Too cowardly to fight men openly, they come in the night and strike at boys, and dogs, and steal.”
“Yow lookye here,” said the big grinder, taking off his jacket and baring his strong arms; “yow called me a coward, did you?”
“Yes, and any of you who know who did this coward’s trick,” cried Uncle Bob angrily.
“Then tek that!” cried the man, striking at him full in the face.
I saw Uncle Bob catch the blow on his right arm, dart out his left and strike the big grinder in the mouth; and then, before he could recover himself, my uncle’s right fist flashed through the air like lightning, and the man staggered and then fell with a dull thud, the back of his head striking the stones.
There was a loud yell at this, and a chorus rose:
“In wi’ ’em. Throost ’em i’ th’ dam,” shouted a voice, and half a dozen men advanced menacingly; but Uncle Bob stood firm, and just then Fannell the smith strode before them.