As for him, he dropped his hat once, and nearly fell on it, in looking behind. So he thrust it under his arm as he scurried past the bend in the road; and there despair seized him, for now the other bridge was open too. Which escape might he make first? At the end from which he had turned back, a great liner was being towed through at a snail’s pace, funnels and masts scarce seeming to move across the street. But at this end a small coaster went out briskly, and her mizzen was more than half over now. The woman was less than twenty yards off, but though she still staggered nearer, she was engaged with boys. Uncle Isaac put panic aside, and resolved on dignity. He took his hat from under his arm, and began to brush it on his sleeve. Mother Born-drunk was in the hands of her enemies, though there were fewer than usual. She swore and swiped at them, and they flung and yelled and danced. But they drew nearer Uncle Isaac, for it was a new variation in the sport to involve an old gentleman with his Sunday clothes on. Then shouted the woman breathlessly: “P’lice! p’lice! Mish’ Mundy, I’ll give y’ in charge for annoyin’ me. ’J’ear!” She came very near and made a catch at him, which he dodged without regard to dignity. “Mish’ Mundy! Stand a drop—just a little drop for ole times! If ye don’t stand a drop I’ll give y’ in charge!” The coaster was through, and soon the bridge would shut. Uncle Isaac moved up toward the chain amid shouts and jibes. “Y’ought to be ashamed o’ yerself,” bawled the woman, “a ole man like you, annoyin’ a lady!” But the men were at the winch, and the bridge swung. First of all the impatient passengers, Uncle Isaac sprang on the moving iron and got across at peril of life and limb ere the sections were still. He heard a louder shout of laughter from behind, where Mother Born-drunk, forgetting the chain as she made for the bridge, had sprawled over it where it hung low in the middle; and he quickened his pace.