“I shall do my best,” I replied.

The bully did not utter a word in reply, but he put the point of his knife to a bushranger’s arm, and pressed so hard that the prisoner uttered a half suppressed cry of pain.

“You see!” the fellow exclaimed, turning to me.  “Now, what are you going to do about it?”

I saw that Mr. Brown and every person in the room were watching my motions with considerable curiosity, and that I should be disgraced if I retreated from my unpleasant position.  The quarrel was not serious enough to use my weapons, although I was not blind to the fact that the bully had a knife in his hand, and looked like a fellow who would not scruple to use it.

There was but one course for me to pursue—­so, no sooner had he proposed his question than I raised my arm and struck him a blow between his eyes that caused a stream of claret to spurt out, and sent the bully reeling backwards to the further end of the room.

“Good!” cried a dozen voices, and I heard Mr. Brown’s deep bass foremost in the exclamation.

“Take care,” shouted the crowd; “he’s got a knife, and will use it.”

The warning came none too soon, for suddenly the crowd opened to the right and left, and I caught sight of the bully, with bloody face and inflamed eyes, rushing towards me.

There was no time to draw my revolver, or even my knife, for before I could lay my hand upon either the fellow was within three feet of me, with uplifted hand.  I stood firm, and when I saw the weapon descending, like lightning I sprang aside.  The point of the knife touched the barrel of my pistol, glanced aside, and such was the force of the blow that the ruffian fell to the floor, completely at my mercy.

“You would, would ye?” I heard Mike shout, as the bully struggled to regain his feet.  “Take that, for a bad man that ye are.”

The Irishman, as he spoke, snatched a boomerang from Kala’s hand and struck the fallen man a blow upon his head that I thought had crushed his skull.

“Served him right!” I heard the laborers say, who, now that their companion was beaten, could afford to give some expression of their opinion.

“The d——­d blackguard! he not only insults our guests, but must pick on prisoners he never dared to face.  O, the spalpeen, I’ve a good mind to fetch him another winder,” and Mike raised his weapon as if to do so, but I stayed his hand, for the bully appeared to be really suffering, and groaned as though his head ached.

“What is the cause of this disturbance?” I heard Mr. Wright ask, while endeavoring to persuade Mike to remain quiet.

“Faith, the cause of it was insolence, and right well has it been punished,” replied Mr. Brown.  “But come into the other room, and I’ll tell you the whole story.”

Our host followed the ex-inspector to the room where we had supped, while I left the now quiet crowd as soon as possible, and passed out of doors with Mike at my heels.