stood quite
quietly up against the wall hardly making a movement, their sword hand
and wrist never appeared to stir, but many who had been in the forefront
had retired howling and the snow all around was deeply stained with red:
Jan Tiele and Willem had broken noses and Piet had lost one ear.

The three men were hatless and the faces of two of them were smeared
with blood. The third--taller and broader than the others--stood between
them, and with those that pressed him closely he bandied mocking words.

"Spaniards! Papists!" yelled the crowd.

"If I hear those words again," he retorted pleasantly, "I'll run three
of you through on Bucephalus as on a spit, and leave you thus ready for
roasting in hell. We are no Spaniards. My father was English and my
friend Pythagoras here was born in a donkey shed, whilst Socrates first
saw the light of day in a travelling menagerie. So we are none of us
Spaniards, and you can all disperse."

"Papists!"

"And if I hear that again I'll send the lot of you to hell."

"Art thou Samson then, to think thyself so strong?" shouted a shrill
voice close to him.

"Give me thy jawbone and I'll prove thee that I am," he retorted gaily.

"Spies!" they cried.

"Dondersteen!" he shouted in his turn, swearing lustily, "I am tired of
this rabble. Disperse! disperse, I tell ye! Bucephalus my friend wilt
have a taste of Dutch guts? Another ear? a nose or two? What, ye will
not go?"

"Spaniards! Spies! Papists!"

The crowd was gathering unto itself a kind of fury that greatly
resembled courage. Those that were behind pushed and those that were in
front could no longer retreat. Blood had begun to flow more freely and
the groans of the wounded had roused the bellicose instincts of those
whose skin was still whole. One or two of the more venturesome had made
close and gruesome acquaintance with the silent but swift Bucephalus,
whilst from the market place in the rear the numbers of the crowd thus
packed in this narrow street corner swelled dangerously. The new comers
did not know what had happened before their arrival. They could not see
over the heads of the crowd what was going on at this moment. So they
pushed from behind and the three combatants with their backs against the
wall had much difficulty in keeping a sufficiently wide circle around
them to allow their swords free play.

Already Socrates, dizzy from the blood that was streaming down his
sharp, hooked nose, had failed to keep thr