"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.