"Or that fat pig will kill you!" My antagonist did not join in the laugh this time.

Indeed it struck me that his eye wandered and that he was not so ready to enter the ring as his mates were to form it.

But before I could try his mettle, a hand was laid on my shoulder.

A man appearing from I do not know where--from the dark fringe of the group, I suppose--pushed me aside, roughly, but not discourteously.
"Leave this to me!" he said, coolly stepping before me.

"Do not dirty your hands with the knave, master.