A shout! the colts and horses had made a rush, a dash, and had broken through the ring. It was quickly reformed, and away after those who had escaped rushed some of the men with their whips whirled about their heads.
This caused a momentary diversion. Anthony took advantage to leave his place by the fallen horse, come forward, and with his elbows force his way through to Crymes, and then, planting himself between Fox and his assailants, he shouted:
"No harm has been done. It was a joke. He and I had sport together, and I hit him in the eye and hurt him; he knows I never designed to injure him. Now he tried a merry prank on me. He designed no hurt to me—but it has gone further than he would, as did mine with him. Hands off—here, Fox, show them we bear each other no malice—here before all, give me your right hand, good friend."
Crymes held back.
Cudgels were lowered, and the men drew away.
Fox slipped his hunting-knive up his sleeve, and sullenly extended his arm.
"You see!" called Anthony, looking round, and not regarding Crymes. "You see! We are good friends, and hearty comrades."
Then he clasped the right hand of Fox. As he did so, the blade slipped down the sleeve into the hand of Crymes, and as Anthony clenched his fingers about those of Fox, they closed on the blade in his hand, which was keen, and cut. He felt the knife, but he did not relax his grasp, and when he drew his hand away it was covered with blood.
"It was a mischance," said Crymes, with a malicious laugh. "You did not give me time to sheath the knife."