The navvies listened in silent wonder.
Darwen shrugged his shoulders with easy unconcern. "The forces of Nature, dear boy," he answered. He turned to the navvies. "I came down to see the fun," he said. "The gipsies are going to put up a scrap, I see, they're out with sticks and guns and God knows what."
"That's off, Mister," a navvy answered.
"Off? Ha! Ha! You've let this chap with his little fight divert you?"
"That was part of the stakes," Carstairs said, shortly. "And these men will stick to their bargain."
They gave a low murmur of assent.
Darwen laughed. "Well, you are mugs, you've let this chap diddle you. This skilled fighter against poor old plucky, but unskilled Charlie."
They began to cast suspicious glances at Carstairs.
"Charlie didn't get one good one on him. You could see that for yourselves."
"It was a fair fight," they said, gruffly. "An' a bet's a bet."