Speedily the crowd about the door gave back, and before they were aware
the Sergeant and Constable Scott appeared with big Joe Coyle between
them.
"Take him!" said the Sergeant to Cameron.
Cameron seized him by the collar.
"Come here!" he said, and, clearing the platform in a spring, he brought
his prisoner in a heap with him. "Get up!" he roared at him, jerking him
to his feet as if he had been a child.
"Let him go!" shouted the man with the goatee, named Bill, rushing up.
"Take that, then," said Cameron, giving him a swift half-arm jab on the
jaw, "and I'll come back for you again," he added, as the man fell back
into the arms of his friends.
"Forward!" said the Sergeant, falling in with Constable Scott behind
Cameron and facing the crowd with drawn revolvers. The swift fierceness
of the attack seemed to paralyse the senses of the crowd.
"Come on, boys!" yelled the goatee man, bloody and savage with Cameron's
blow. "Don't let the blank blank blank rattle you like a lot of blank
blank chickens. Come on!"
At once rose a roar from eight hundred throats like nothing human in
its sound, and the crowd began to press close upon the Police. But the
revolvers had an ugly appearance to those in front looking into their
little black throats.
"Aw, come on!" yelled a man half drunk, running with a lurch upon the
Sergeant.
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