They began to bore. At once there was an uproar, punctuated with vociferous and varied profanity.
Duff proved himself an effective leader.
“Here, let me pass,” he shouted into the backs of men's heads. “I'm on duty here. I must get through to Colonel Kavanagh. Keep up there, men; keep your line! Stand back, please! Make way!”
His huge bulk, distorted face and his loud and authoritative voice startled men into temporary submission, and before they could recover themselves he and his little company of hard-boring men were through.
Twenty-five yards from the recruiting office a side rush of the crowd caught them.
“They've smashed the barricades,” a boy from a telegraph pole called out.
Duff and his men fought to hold their places, but they became conscious of a steady pressure backwards.
“What's doing now, boy?” shouted Duff to the urchin clinging to the telegraph pole.
“The fusileers—they are sticking their bayonets into them.”
Before the line of bayonets the crowd retreated slowly, but Duff and his company held their ground, allowing the crowd to ebb past them, until they found themselves against the line of bayonets.