From some stacks of timber near by came a bellowing as of some one in torment, and the sound of blows. Pelle wanted, to turn aside, but Per Kofod seized his arm and dragged him forward.
In among the timber-stacks three “coalies” were engaged in beating a fourth. He did not cry out, but gave vent to a muffled roar every time he received a blow. The blood was flowing down his face.
“Come on!” shouted Per Kofod, hitching up his trousers. And then, with a roar, he hurled himself into their midst, and began to lay about him in all directions. It was like an explosion with its following hail of rocks. Howling Peter had learned to use his strength; only a sailor could lay about him in that fashion. It was impossible to say where his blows were going to fall; but they all went home. Pelle stood by for a moment, mouth and eyes open in the fury of the fray; then he, too, tumbled into the midst of it, and the three dock-laborers were soon biting the dust.
“Damn it all, why did you interfere!” said Pelle crossly, when it was over, as he stood pulling his collar straight.
“I don’t know,” said Howling Peter. “But it does one no harm to bestir one’s self a bit for once!”
After the heat of the battle they had all but forgotten the man originally attacked; he lay huddled up at the foot of a timber-stack and made no sound. They got him on his legs again, but had to hold him upright; he stood as limp as though asleep, and his eyes were staring stupidly. He was making a heavy snoring sound, and at every breath the blood made two red bubbles at his nostrils. From time to time he ground his teeth, and then his eyes turned upward and the whites gleamed strangely in his coal-blackened face.
The sailor scolded him, and that helped him so far that he was able to stand on his feet. They drew a red rag from his bulging jacket-pocket, and wiped the worst of the blood away. “What sort of a fellow are you, damn it all, that you can’t stand a drubbing?” said Per Kofod.
“I didn’t call for help,” said the man thickly. His lips were swollen to a snout.
“But you didn’t hit back again! Yet you look as if you’d strength enough. Either a fellow manages to look after himself or he sings out so that others can come to help him. D’ye see, mate?”
“I didn’t want to bring the police into it; and I’d earned a thrashing. Only they hit so damned hard, and when I fell they used their clogs.”