CHAPTER XXXIV
SIR ALGERNON
TO the right, at the rear end of the long, black hallway that connectedthe area with the street on the north, was a good-sized room which hadonce been used by a job printer--as proven by the rubbish in it: stripsof wood, quantities of old type, torn paper, and ragged, inky cloths.The room had a pair of large windows looking out upon the brickpavement; but as these windows were smeared and dust-sprinkled, theplace offered privacy. And Barber, leading the way down from his ownflat, did not halt until he stood in the center of it.
"I'm not goin' t' have no cop stop this fight," he declared grimly.
Mr. Perkins, entering, shut the door at his back. "Neither am I," heanswered quietly.
There was a moment's pause, as the two men, separated by several feet,gazed at each other. Physically, the contrast between them was horrific.Slight, neat, dapper, showing even no ill-temper, Mr. Perkins seemed buta poor match for Barber, whose appearance was more gorillalike thanusual (hair disheveled, heavy shoulders humped, teeth grinding savagelyunder puffed and bristling lips, huge hands at the ends of long, curvingarms, spreading and closing with the desire to clutch and rend). Yet BigTom was plainly not so cocksure of himself as he had been, while thescoutmaster wore an air of complete confidence.
Suddenly, muttering a curse, the longshoreman lurched forward andreached for the younger man. In the same instant, Mr. Perkins clenchedhis own fists and held them before him on guard. But also he advanced,though elusively, slipping to one side of those great paws. As he sidestepped, with a duck of the head he gathered himself together, snappedforward, and landed a jab square upon Barber's right eye.
"Ow-oo!" It was a bellow, mingling surprise with rage and pain.Involuntarily, the longshoreman fell back a pace, and lifted a hand tohis face. As he did so, with another down-jerk of the chin, and anotherleap, once more the scoutmaster rammed him--upon the left eye. Andfollowed this up with a lightning stroke on that big, twisted nose.
At this, Big Tom made a rush. So far, the fight was not of the kind hehad waged with One-Eye--a rough-and-tumble affair in which brutestrength and weight counted in his favor. But pounds, combined with lackof training, slowness, and awkwardness, put him at a sad disadvantagewhen facing this smaller, lighter man who had speed, and science, andwas accustomed to bouts. Since Barber could not change his own method offighting, he understood that he must change the tactics of hisadversary; must grab the scoutmaster, bear him to the floor, and beathim. This he determined to do. Wildly he churned the air with thoseknuckles of steel.
"If I git my hands on y'," he stormed, "I'll tear y' in _two_!" Thetaste of his own blood was in his mouth now, for a warm stream of it wasspreading from his nostrils to his lips and chin.
"You won't get your hands on me," promised Mr. Perkins. He dodged nimblyfrom side to side as the longshoreman came on, and kept just beyond thelatter's grasp. Watching his chance, he darted in and landed a fourthblow--under an eye; then got away again, carefully preserving himselfagainst being struck while doing the greatest amount of damage possibleto the enemy.
All the time he watched to see that he was not cornered. A moment, andthe junction of two walls came over close to his back; so under one ofthose flesh-and-blood flails he slipped; and, coming up behind Big Tom,struck the latter a whanging blow on an ear. "You're going to spank me,are you?" he taunted. "Well, come on and do it! Come on!"
More maddened than ever, and swearing horribly, the longshoreman whirledand started a second pursuit. He blew the blood from his lips, thebetter to breathe, spattering the scarlet countenance of Mr. Perkinswith scores of dots which were a deeper red. And as he blew, he cut theair with his arms, hitting nothing.
"Why don't y' stand up and fight!" he raged. "Stop that jumpin' 'round!"
"Oh, you want to wrestle, don't you!" mocked Mr. Perkins. "But this timeyou've got to box!"
"Y' won't git ev'rything y'r own way!" vowed Big Tom, panting curses,and still whirling his arms like the fans of a windmill.
Changing his steps like a dancer, the scoutmaster fell back. But now hewas at a disadvantage, for his face was toward those windows, and thelight was in his eyes. As he flitted and shied, tiring Barber andshortening the big man's wind, he watched his chance to bolt under andby as before. Foot on foot the space between him and the rear wall ofthe room lessened. He sprang, now right, now left, on the alert for hisopening. It came. He shot forward----
A staggering clout from a heavy hand hurled him against a side wall likea battering-ram. The breath was driven out of his lungs. Dizzily heplunged forward to his hands and knees among the debris on the floor.
"Ha-a-a-a-a!" It was a shout of triumph from the longshoreman.
But that wallop, hard as it was, had been delivered accidentally. And asBarber, whose eyes were now swelling from the scoutmaster's initialblows, scarcely knew where his opponent was, he failed to seize Mr.Perkins, who was up like a cat, and on, and facing round.
"Now I'll git y'!" cried Barber. As he, in turn, faced about, he beganto kick out furiously, now with one foot, now with the other.
* * * * *
Each moment was passing in painful anxiety to the group in the Barberflat. Mrs. Kukor made one of that group, having teetered in directly BigTom and Mr. Perkins were gone. Now her hat was off and her apron on;with the latter she constantly fanned a face which, its color sped, wasa sickly shade of tan. All the while she murmured strange words underher breath, only breaking out every now and then with an "Ach! poor poy!Poor poy!" As she did not look at either Johnnie or One-Eye, it wasevident that she had Mr. Perkins in mind.
As for Father Pat, he complained about himself. "If I only had melungs!" he mourned. To and fro he walked, to and fro. "If only I coulddo annything except talk! Dear! dear! dear! dear!"
The cowboy, blinder than ever, comforted himself with praising theabsent scoutmaster. "That young feller's O. K.," he asserted. "I cantell it by the way he grabbed my paw. Yas, ma'am! I liked the way heshook hands. He'll come out better'n me. Watch if I ain't right! I ain'tworryin'!"--this though the sweat of concern was even then dampening hiscountenance!
Johnnie, listening and watching, curled himself farther and farther intohis quilt, and feebly groaned. He was seeing, seeing, seeing, and whathe saw was agonizing. "Oh, Mister Perkins'll be licked!" he faltered."Oh, I wish I could've went along. But I'm weak! Oh, Father Pat, thenext time I git licked, I'll keep it t' myself!"
"Oh, don't be silly!" admonished Cis, apprehensive, but calm, beingbuoyed up by hope based upon solid information. "Didn't I tell you,Johnnie, to 'wait till Mr. Perkins finds out'? Well, we waited, tied tothe table like two thieves, or something. And Mr. Perkins _has_ foundout, and he's giving Tom Barber a sound thrashing! So _I'm_ notworrying!"
"I can see y' ain't," declared One-Eye, admiringly. He was back at thesink once more, allowing Niagara to lave that injured eye, now a shiningpurplish-black. "Bully fer the gal! That's the stuff! Y' got backbone!And spirit, by thunder! And sand! Jes' paste _that_ in yer sunbonnet!But, Cis, w'y don't y' skedaddle right _now_? Go whilst the goin's good!Gosh, I'm 'feard that some one's likely t' git hurt pretty bad, and itwon't be Barber! So whoever it is will need t' be nursed."
"Oy! oy! oy! oy!" lamented Mrs. Kukor.
"I'll nurse him!" cried Johnnie, hardly able to keep back the tears."I'll go with him, and take care of him, and cook for him."
"Don't you understand, Johnnie? _I'm_ going with him! I'm to be Mrs.Perkins! And--I'll be right here when Algy comes in."
"But--but--!" whispered Johnnie. What he was thinking made allowance forno such charming event as a wedding; rather for the same sort of dolefulprocession he had pictured before, only now Big Tom was in the carriagewith him, while poor Mr. Perkins----!
One-Eye had something of the sort in his own mind, for as he forsookthe sink, Mrs. Kukor leading him, he shook a rumpled head at her."Barber's bigger'n a barn!" he observed grimly.
"Pos-i-_tivvle_!"
; Cis laughed, tossing her head. "_I_ don't care how big he is," shedeclared, "or how mad! Algy can take care of himself."
Looking at her, Johnnie felt both pity and disgust--pity for the griefshe would undoubtedly suffer soon, disgust for her girl's lack ofunderstanding. Was not the young, boyish, slender scoutmaster fightingthis very moment for his life, and that with a steel-constructed giant?"Aw, jus' look at One-Eye!" he counseled argumentatively, and groanedagain.
"Wait for Algy," returned Cis, crossing to slip an affectionate armabout Mrs. Kukor's shoulders. "And don't fret. Because Algy's theamateur light-heavyweight champion of his club, and it's an athleticclub, and----!"
"What-a-a-at?" roared Father Pat. "He's the--he's the--oh, say itagain!"
But even as Cis opened her lips to speak, swift steps were heard on thestairs outside. She knew them. She rushed to the door and flung it wide.And the next moment, fairly bouncing in, and looking as pink-faced, andwhite-spatted, and dapper as ever, was none other than Mr. Perkins.
The dude had whipped his man.