but it went to one side, whirling down into the river. Stewart sprang in front of Floyd, faced him, and with his back to the crowd flung both arms wide to protect him. "Lie down, Floyd; lie down!" he besought him; struck heavily in the back by a stone, he lurched forward against Floyd, still crying, "Lie down!"
Floyd tried to pull him to one side and shelter him from the storm of iron and stone and slag; but Stewart flung both arms about Floyd's neck and stood between him and the tempest. Floyd, struggling in the embrace, felt the shock of the missiles battering Stewart's back and shoulders. Down his own head the blood was pouring into both eyes, blinding him. "Please lie down, Floyd, please!" Stewart continued to urge; and Floyd muttered, "All right, old man,—if you'll let me,—you lie down, too."
Floyd heard a shot near by; Stewart groaned a little in his arms. "Lie down, Floyd," Stewart murmured; and then he collapsed at Floyd's feet. Without the thought of it in his heart Stewart had at last paid his debt.
Floyd hurled down into the crowd the useless hat that he had been holding and shook both fists aloft and shouted, "You've killed him, God damn you! You've killed him!" And while he stood shrieking this, which they in their own insane shouting did not hear, while he stood over Stewart blinded by blood, defying them helplessly with his clenched fists, they battered him; and at last he also fell.
