THE MAN DROPPED LIKE A LOG
There was a wild uproar, several of the men tried to break into the ring to pick him up, but the stewards thrust them roughly back. "Don't break the ring," they said. Bounce stood over him, watch in hand, and counted out the seconds. "He's beat," he said at the end of the tenth, as the man lay there helpless.
Carstairs picked him up. "Never mind," he said. "That five pounds is yours, anyway."
The navvies shouted uproariously, and crowded round Carstairs congratulating him in their rough but sincere fashion. In the midst of it all he heard an old familiar voice that drove the smile from his face.
"That really was damn good, old chap."
He turned and beheld Darwen, smiling, genial, standing at his elbow.
"How the devil did you get here?" he asked, frowning severely.
The navvies near listened in open curiosity and wonder.
"'E bin down 'ere weeks, off an' on, standing us beer down at the village," a navvy explained.
"So this was some of your devil's work, eh? You were going to resort to force when fair means failed, you damned skunk."