"Never mind, old sport," I whispered cheerily. "Just think of the goodies
Mary Ellen's making for us! Pretty soon we'll be home."
While I strove to revive The Seraph's flagging spirits, Angel had strolled
along the street to watch the little girls. He had an eye for the gentle
sex even when their fairness was disguised by dirty pinafores and stiff
pigtails. I did not see what happened, but above the noise of the organ I
heard first, shouts of derision and anger, and then my brother's voice
crying out in pain.
I pushed aside the clinging Seraph and ran to where I saw the two groups
melted into one about a pair of combatants. The little girls parted to let
me through. I saw then that the contending parties were Angel and a boy
whose tousled head was fully six inches above my brother's. He had gripped
Angel by the back of the neck with one hand, while with the other he struck
blows that sounded horrible to me. Angel was hitting out wildly. When the
boy saw me, he hooked his leg behind Angel's and threw him on his back with
deadly ease, at the same time administering a kick in the stomach. He
turned then to me with a leer.
"Well, pretty," he simpered, "does yer want some too? I s'y fellers, 'ere's
another Hangel comin' fer 'is dose. Put up yer little 'ooks then; an' I'll
give yer two black 'osses an' a red driver! Aw, come on, sissy!"
I tried to remember what father had said about fighting. "Don't clutch and
don't paw. Strike out from the shoulder like a gentleman." So, while the
boy was talking, I struck out from the shoulder right on the end of his
nose with my shut fist.
Whatever things I may achieve, never, ah, never shall I experience a thrill
of triumph equal to that which made my blood dance when I saw a trickle--a
goodly, rich red trickle!--of blood spurt from the bully's nose.
"Ow! Ow! Wesley! Oo's got a red driver on 'is own?" shouted his comrades.
"Plug aw'y little 'un!"
He snarled horribly, showing his big front teeth. I could feel his breath
hot on my face as he clutched me round the neck. I could see some boys
holding Angel back, I could hear The Seraph's wail of "John! John!" Then,
simultaneously there came a blow on my own nose, and a grasping of my
collar, and a shaking that freed us of each other, for I was clutching him
with fury equal to his own.
A minute passed before I could regain possession of myself. The street
reeled, the organ seemed to be grinding in my own head, and yet I found
that it was not playing at all, for there was Tony with it on his back,
looking anxiously into my face, and firing a volley of invective after the
big boy, who was retreating with his mates.
I looked up at the owner of the hand which still held my collar. He was a
very thin young man with a pale face and quiet grey eyes.
Tony began to offer incoherent explanations.
"But who are they?" demanded the young man, "they don't seem to belong to
this street."
"No, no, no," reiterated Tony, "dey are little fr-riends of mine--dey come
for a walk with me. Oh, I shall get into some trouble for dis, I tink! It
was all dose damn boys dat bully heem, an' when I would run to help, dere
was my Anita lef' on da organ, an' I mus' not lose her!"
"It's all right," I explained to the young man, "we were just spending the
afternoon with Tony, and it wasn't his fault we got to fighting, and--and
did I do very badly please? Did you notice whether I pawed or not?"
"By George!" said the young man, "you made the claret flow!"
"It took two of them to hold me or I'd have got back at him," said Angel.
"It took fwee o' them to hold _me_," piped The Seraph, "or I'd have punched
evwybody!"
"How did it start?" enquired the young man.
"That biggest one asked me my name," replied Angel, "and before I thought
I'd said, 'Angel,' and that started them. Of course my real name is David,
but I forgot for the moment."
"Pet names _are_ a nuisance sometimes," said the young man, smiling, "I had
one once. It was John Peel. But no one calls me that now."
"I will tak' dem home now," interrupted Tony. "Come," taking The Seraph's
hand, "dere will be no more running da street for you little boys!"
"I'll walk along, too," said the young man, "I've nothing else to do."
I strode along at his side greatly elated. I was as hot as fire, and some
of the gamin's blood was still on my hand. I cherished it secretly.
Although the young man had quiet, even sad, eyes, it turned out that he was
wonderfully interesting. He had travelled considerably, and had even
visited South America, yet he could not have been an engineer like father,
building railroads, for he looked very poor.