In Honours Cause | Page 6

tall, overgrown lad at his side, who was unused to outdoor exercise, dropped into a walk panting heavily.
"Too late!" he said, in a tone of vexation. "There the carriage goes, through Storey's Gate. Look at the crowd after it. They'll hoot him till the soldiers stop them. Come along, Frank; we shall see a fight, and perhaps some one will be killed."
CHAPTER THREE.
GETTING INTO HOT WATER.
The excitement of his companion was now communicated to Frank Gowan, and as fast as they could walk they hurried on toward the gate at the corner of the Park, passing knot after knot of people talking about the scene which had taken place. But the boy did not forget to look eagerly in the direction of the row of goodly houses standing back behind the trees, and facing on to the Park, before they turned out through the gate and found themselves in the tail of the crowd hurrying on toward Palace Ward.
The crowd grew more dense till they reached the end of the street with the open space in front, where it was impossible to go farther.
"Let's try and get round," whispered Andrew. "Do you hear? They're fighting!"
Being young and active, they soon managed to get round to where they anticipated obtaining a view of the proceedings; but there was nothing to see but a surging crowd, for the most part well-dressed, but leavened by the mob, and this was broken up from time to time by the passing of carriages whose horses were forced to walk.
"Oh, if we could only get close up!" said Andrew impatiently. "Hark at the shouting and yelling. They are fighting with the soldiers now."
"No, no, not yet, youngster," said a well-dressed man close by them; "it's only men's canes and fists. The Whigs are getting the worst of it; so you two boys had better go while your heads are whole."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, I know a Whig when I see one, my lad."
"Do you mean that as an insult, sir?" said Andrew haughtily.
"No," said the gentleman, smiling; "only as a bit of advice."
"Because if you did--" said Andrew, laying his hand upon his sword.
"You would send your friends to me, boy, and then I should not fight. Nonsense, my lad. There, off with your friend while your shoes are good, and don't raise your voice, or some one will find out that you are from the Palace. Then the news would run like wild fire, and you ought to know by this time what a cowardly London mob will do. They nearly tore Sir Marland Granthill out of his carriage just now. There, if I am not on your side, I speak as a friend."
Before Andrew could make any retort, and just as Frank was tugging at his arm to get him away, they were separated from the stranger by a rush in the crowd, which forced them up into a doorway, from whose step they saw, one after the other, no less than six men borne along insensible and bleeding from wounds upon the head, while their clothes were nearly torn from their backs.
Then the shouting and yelling began to subside, and the two lads were forced to go with the stream, till an opportunity came for them to dive down a side street and reach the river stairs, where they took a wherry and were rowed east.
"I should like to know who that man was," said Andrew, after a long silence, during which they went gliding along with the falling tide.
"He spoke very well," said Frank.
"Yes; but he took me for a Whig," said the youth indignantly.
"But, I say, what was it all about?"
"Oh, you'll soon learn that," replied Andrew.
"Is there often fighting like this going on in the streets?"
"Every day somewhere."
"But why?" said Frank anxiously.
"Surely you know! Because the Whigs have brought in a king that the people do not like. There, don't talk about it any more now. I want to sit still and think."
Frank respected his companion's silence, and thankful at having escaped from the heat and pressure of the crowd, he sat gazing at the moving panorama on either side, enjoying the novelty of his position.
His musings upon what he saw were interrupted by his companion, who repeated his former words suddenly in a low, thoughtful voice, but one full of annoyance, as if the words were rankling in his memory.
"He took me for a Whig."
Then, catching sight of his companion's eyes watching him wonderingly:
"What say?" he cried. "Did you speak?"
"No; you did."
"No, I said nothing."
Frank smiled.
"Yes, you said again that the man in the crowd took you for a Whig."
"Did I? Well, I was thinking aloud then."
"Where to, sir?" asked the waterman, as he sent the boat gliding along past the gardens of the Temple, "London Bridge?"
"No; Blackfriars."
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