let the world at large know what would happen on
the great "Day"; when the whole "schwein-hund" Englander nation would,
at long last, be knocked sky-high and to everlasting flinders by the
ineffable and invincible Army of Kaiser Wilhelm II.

Dick got tired of the drunken man's blatant boasting, and finished his
beer with the intention of leaving the bar before he lost his temper,
but as he put down the empty mug he realized with consternation that he
had not the wherewithal to pay for the drink! He stood embarrassed and
irresolute. What could he say to excuse himself how explain before this
crowd of contemptuous Germans?

At that moment, however, something happened to put the matter out of
his mind entirely. The orator had gone one better, and was now
describing what various kinds of "schwein-hunden" all Britishers were,
and those in Luderitzbucht in particular, when suddenly a small man,
who had been sitting quietly in a corner of the room, left his seat,
and, walking up to the group, called out, "'Ere, you with the mouth!
Shut yer fat head abaht Englishmen or I'll make yer! I'm English. Wot
yer got to say abaht it?"

A roar of laughter went up from the Germans, any of whom looked big
enough to eat the small man. Dick pushed nearer to the group. He knew
the chap now--he was a little Cockney Jew, a bookmaker, horse-dealer,
and what not, scarcely the kind of chap to be expected to show pluck
and patriotism, yet these are often met with in the most unexpected
places. There he stood, opposite a German big enough to eat him and in
fluent Cockney he proceeded to tell that big man more about himself
than is good for any fat man to know.

Of course it could not last long. The jeering laughter changed to
threats and curses, and then suddenly the colossus made a terrific
round-arm all-embracing swipe at that small man, calculated to
obliterate him once for all. But he wasn't there when it arrived; and,
to Dick's joy and amazement, he saw the little Jew dodge in under the
stroke, and with a spring and a lightning blow on the point bring down
the big bully with a crash to the floor.

"A boxer, by gad!" yelled Dick, capering with excitement; "bravo,
little 'un!" But the small man's victory was only that of a moment. The
next the whole crowd had flung themselves upon him, and the miniature
champion of "Rule Britannia" was borne to the ground in the centre of a
whirl of legs, arms, chairs, bottles, and the other weapons usually