CHAPTER XX
Bounce had seen that little incident, too. He crossed the ring and helped Carstairs to dress. He said nothing, but his peculiar hazel eyes were alight.
While they were still busy, the little civil engineer from the water-works appeared on the scene. He looked round in surprise. "What the blazes are you chaps doing here?" he asked.
A navvy answered from the crowd. "A fight, sir." The whole assembly had the air of school boys caught breaking bounds.
The little man blazed with anger. "Damn it," he said, "why didn't you tell me? You know I like to see that everything is above board at these little gatherings." He stood on the top of the little hill clear to the view of all.
"Beg parding, sir. This 'ere were sort of impromptoo."
"Impromptu! By Jove—you know I don't like impromptu fights."
"Very sorry, sir," the spokesman muttered, and they all looked it. By sheer force of character and unswerving fairness of treatment, this little man had obtained, in the course of two years' constant association, a complete ascendency over these wild, strong men.
"Who's been fighting?" he asked.
"Charlie Moore an' a toff bloke, then two toff blokes."