"Bill, 'ere's the 'unters; come and 'ave a look at 'em."
I suppose Bill came. Encouraging remarks were addressed to us by miscellaneous spectators, principally boys.
"You're all right, mister, 'e's gone down there; if you 'urries up, you'll get a sight of 'im."
I do not know if the observation was directed to me; if it was, I could have assured the speaker that neither my horse nor myself had the slightest intention of "hurrying up" to catch a sight of anyone.
About a hundred yards farther down we found ourselves in the midst of what looked very like an actual riot. Although the street was very wide just there, it was rendered almost impassable by a motley concourse of vehicles, horsemen and pedestrians. On one side of the street was a butcher's shop. Towards this butcher's shop all faces were turned. From it there proceeded an amazing din--there were sounds of dogs barking, of men's voices, and of one voice in particular.
I turned to Philipson in search of an explanation. The explanation which he proffered, although succinct and to the point, took me somewhat by surprise.
"Stag's taken shelter in the butcher's shop."
It seemed to me to be a curious shelter for a stag to choose--a butcher's shop! And so, judging from his words, which, in an interval of comparative silence, were distinctly audible, the butcher seemed himself to think.
"Don't let any of your dogs come into my place, or I'll cut their somethinged throats for them. Your deer--if it is your deer--has done me ten-pounds'-worth of damage. You pay me that ten pounds, and then I'll talk to you; but not till then. You know who I am; there's my name and my address!"--the speaker pointed with his cleaver to the name over his shop-front--"and if you want anything from me, you know how to get it. There's the law for me as well as for you! But don't let any of you chaps--I don't care who he is--try to set foot in my premises, or he'll be sorry, and so I tell you."
The butcher seemed to be very angry indeed, which, if the deer really had done him ten-pounds'-worth of damage, was not to be wondered at.