“Ha! Rather a good one, that,” exclaimed the lieutenant, mildly interested. “He put that chap out somewhat neatly.” He lit a cigar and stood coolly watching the fight. “Where are the Ottawas--the fellow's friends?” said Harry, much excited. “I rather think they camp on another street further down.” The Ottawa champion was being sorely pressed, and it looked as if in a moment or two more he would be down. “What a shame!” cried Harry. “Well,” said the lieutenant, languidly, “it's beastly dirty, but the chap's done rather well, so here goes.” Smoking his cigar, and followed by Harry, he pushed across the street to the crowd, and got right up to the fighters. “Here, you fellows,” he called out, in a high, clear voice, “what the deuce do you mean, kicking up such a row? Come now, stop, and get out of here.” The astonished crowd stopped fighting and fell back a little. The calm, clear voice of command and her majesty's uniform awed them. “Mon camarade!” said the lieutenant, removing his cigar and saluting, “rather warm, eh?” “You bet! Ver' warm tam,” was the reply. “Better get away, mon ami. The odds are rather against you,” said the lieutenant. “Your friends are some distance down the next street. You better go along.” So saying, he stepped out toward the crowd of Gatineaus who were consulting and yelling. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, politely, waving his little cane. Those immediately in front gave back, allowed the lieutenant, followed by the Ottawa man and Harry, to pass, and immediately closed in behind. They might have escaped had it not been that the Ottawa man found it impossible to refrain from hurling taunts at them and inviting them to battle. They had gone not more than two blocks when there was a rush from behind, and before they could defend themselves they were each in the midst of a crowd, fighting for their lives. The principal attack was, of course, made upon the Ottawa man, but the crowd was quite determined to prevent the lieutenant and Harry from getting near him. In vain they struggled to break through the yelling mass of Gatineaus, who now had become numerous enough to fill the street from wall to wall, and among whom could be seen some few of the Ottawa men trying to force their way toward their champion. By degrees both Harry and De Lacy fought their way to the wall, and toward each other. “Looks as if our man had met his Waterloo,” said the lieutenant, waiting for his particular man to come again. “What a lot of beasts they are!” said Harry, disgustedly, beating off his enemy. “Hello! Here they come again. We shall have to try another shot, I suppose,” said the lieutenant, as the crowd, which had for a few moments surged down the street, now came crushing back, with the Ottawa leader, and some half-dozen of his followers in the center. “Well, here goes,” said De Lacy, leaving the wall and plunging into the crowd, followed by Harry. As they reached the center a voice called out: “A bas les Anglais!”