Before the unlucky pitman
could rise the whole mob had surged over him, amidst shrieks of
laughter.
On this the Fairburn men threw all George's cautions to the winds, and
charged the mob. Instantly a hot fight was going on around the big
banner. Even old Saunders, the overlooker, caught one of the
opposition gang by the collar, crying, "Ye loons, what for are ye
coming our way again? Ye ha' been once to-day, wi' your jibes and
jeers; isn't that enough?"
"Jibes and jeers, old lad! Eh, there'll happen be mair than that afore
bedtime."
Meanwhile there was rough work around the banner. In spite of the
efforts of the bearers and their friends to protect the canvas, one of
the Fairburn men had got a grip of it, and in a second the thing had
been torn from its supporting poles, amid mingled cheers and
execrations. The canvas itself was pulled hither and thither by the
opposing gangs, each striving to retain possession of it. Bit by bit
the banner was torn to pieces, the men fighting savagely for even the
smallest shred of it, each man pocketing his piece as a trophy, till
at length there was nothing of the thing left visible.
Cries of, "On to the pit wi' ye, lads!" were by this time plentiful,
and with a dash the now much augmented mob surged in that direction.
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