They were moving in upon him quickly, groping, yet moving rapidly. It was
like playing blind man's buff, with everyone blindfolded except one. "Get hold of
him!", cried one. He found himself in the arc of a loose curve of pursuers. He felt
suddenly he must be active and resolute.
"You don't understand," he cried in a voice that was meant to be great and
resolute, and which broke. "You are blind, and I can see. Leave me alone!"
"Bogota! Put down that, spade, and come off the grass!"
The last order, grotesque in its urban familiarity, produced a gust of anger.
"I'll hurt you," he said, sobbing with emotion. "By heaven, I'll hurt you.
Leave me alone!"
He began to run, not knowing clearly where to run. He ran from the nearest
blind man, because it was a horror to hit him. He stopped, and then made a dash
to escape from their closing ranks. He made for where a gap was wide, and the men
on either side, with quick perception of the approach of. his paces, rushed in on one
another. He sprang forward, and then saw he must be caught, and. swish! the spade
had struck. He felt the soft thud of hand and arm, and the man was down with a
yell of pain, and he was through.