The pair were walking a few steps ahead of Samson and Harry. In a second Samson's big hand was on McNoll's shoulder.
"This is Mr. McNoll, I believe," said Samson.
The other turned with a scared look.
"What do ye want o' me?" he demanded.
Samson threw him to the ground with a jerk so strong and violent that it rent the sleeve from his shoulder. McNoll's companion who had felt the weight of Samson's hand and had had enough of it turned and ran.
"What do ye want o' me?" McNoll asked again as he struggled to free himself.
"What do I want o' you—you puny little coward," said Samson, as he lifted the bully to his feet and gave him a toss and swung him in the air and continued to address him. "I'm just goin' to muss you up proper. If you don't say you're sorry and mean it I'll put a tow string on your neck and give you to some one that wants a dog."
"I'm sorry," said McNoll. "Honest I am! I was drunk when I done it."
Samson released his prisoner. A number in the crowd which had gathered around them clapped their hands and shouted, "Hurrah for the stranger!"
A constable took Samson's hand and said: "You deserve a vote of thanks. That man and his friends have made me more trouble than all the rest of the drinking men put together."