The Rich Little Poor Boy Part 53

Mr. Perkins was not ruffled by the longsh.o.r.eman's attempt at humor.

"Don't waste your breath on compliments, Mr. Barber," he advised; "you may need it." He laid a new, black bowler hat on the kitchen table, and proceeded to draw off his gloves.

"G.o.d grant he will!" cried Father Pat, fervently. "For besides what he's done to these children, look how he's treated our poor friend from Kansas!" And the priest stepped from between the scoutmaster and One-Eye.

The Westerner waved protesting hands. "Wy-o-ming!" he corrected, with more than a shade of irritation. "Not Kansas! Wy-o-ming!" He held up a countenance that was now wholly--if temporarily--blind.

"Wyoming," repeated Father Pat, hastily. "And here's Mr. Perkins, One-Eye, and he's wishin' t' shake yer hand."

At that, out shot the cowboy's right. It was still b.l.o.o.d.y over the knuckles, the Father having confined his washing to One-Eye's face. "Put 'er there!" invited the sightless one.

"How are you!" greeted Mr. Perkins, heartily; yet his tone carried with it just the right amount of sympathy.

"Jes' so-so," answered One-Eye. "Look how he slapped me in the eye!"

"Cis, my sweetheart, are you all right?" inquired Mr. Perkins.

She ran to him, and he took her hands. "Oh, yes!" she cried happily.

"But, oh, I'm so glad you've come!"

As Father Pat said afterward, it was the sweetheart that did it. As those young hands met, of a sudden Barber's good humor went. "That'll do!" he ordered. "Jus' y' shut up on them pretty names!"

"Ah! You don't believe in affection, do you?" rejoined Mr. Perkins. His countenance wore an exasperating smile.

"I don't b'lieve in puppy love!" answered Big Tom. "I don't b'lieve in the soft, calf stuff! And I'd jus' like t' know how it happens that you two guys 're here at this time in the mornin'! How does it come? _Some one_ must 've fetched y'! And I'm _goin'_ t' know, 'r else I'm goin' t'

break ev'ry last bone in y'r dude body!"

"Oh, my goodness!" quavered Johnnie. He turned and twisted in the big chair. And he wished with all his might that he was having either a very bad think, or a torturing nightmare. Seeing this second friend come, he had felt an awful sinking of the heart. If the Westerner, rough and ready and leathery as he was, could not conquer Big Tom, what would the young scoutmaster be able to do?--and he so slender and light when compared to the giant longsh.o.r.eman! And now the latter was working himself into a rage! Johnnie, head thrust from the folds of the quilt, told himself that the whole world was coming to an end.

But Mr. Perkins did not seem to be disturbed by Barber's threats. "Fancy that!" he said calmly. "Every bone! But where will you take it, Mr.

Barber?"

"Take what?" asked the longsh.o.r.eman.

"Your whipping," answered Mr. Perkins; "--the good, sound, punching that I'm going to give you." He began to get out of his coat.

A shout of laughter--from Big Tom, who next addressed the ceiling. "Oh, listen t' this cute baby boy!" he cried. "He thinks he can lick me!

Me!--one o' the strongest men on the whole water front! One-Eye, tell him how far _you_ got! Oh, save his life, One-Eye! Save his life!"

"Wisht I had a chunk o' fresh beefsteak fer this lamp!" declared the cowboy, too miserable to care about what was going forward.

"Well," continued Mr. Perkins, "if you're so certain on the score of what you're going to do to me, Mr. Barber, then, of course, you'll be willing to make a bargain with me. Yes?"

Barber was in fine spirits. "Go ahead! Course I'll bargain! Anything y'

like! Git it out o' y'r system!" He sucked his teeth noisily.

"If I come out winner," began the scoutmaster, very deliberately, "then I'm to have Narcissa for my wife--and you'll sign your consent. And we shall go at once--this morning--and be married."

"So that's y'r bargain, is it?" said Big Tom. "Well, I'll say this: _if_ y' can lick me, which y' can't, then I'll make y' a present o' Cis----"

"Don't give away what isn't yours!" Cis interrupted sharply. "And please understand, bargain or no bargain, that I'm leaving here this morning.

If I can't marry Mr. Perkins without your consent, then I'll just wait till I can."

The longsh.o.r.eman ignored her. "I stick by what I've jus' said, Perksie,"

he went on, impudently. "BUT--if I lick _you_, and I'm goin' t', then out y' trot, and down, and y' lose her! Y' understand?"

"I understand that I lose her until she is old enough to do as she chooses," amended Mr. Perkins.

"After t'day, y' don't see her again," insisted Big Tom, "till she's growed up."

"I'll see him every day!" cried Cis. "Every day!--Don't agree to that, Algy! The marriage part, yes, because we can't help ourselves. But he's not going to part us! I'm leaving, but wherever I am, I'm going to see you!"

The longsh.o.r.eman turned toward her now, and his look was full of hate.

"I guess y'll do jus' about what I tell y' to," he said significantly.

"Algy's goin' t' be too sick t' look after y'."

Johnnie emitted a woeful little peep. "Oo-oo! Mister Perkins!" he pleaded. "Couldn't y' put off fightin' till--till some other time?"

Johnnie's anxious demand amused Big Tom. It amused Cis, too, but for a wholly different reason. As they laughed together, each challenged the other with angry eyes.

Johnnie, feeling fainter every moment, marveled as he stared at Cis.

There was no question as to her perfect confidence regarding the outcome of the fight. And he marveled even more when he looked at Mr. Perkins.

The latter was cheerful--even gay! He forgot nothing. First, he shook hands with Father Pat; next with One-Eye. "Maybe you'd like to have me put you into a taxicab before this row starts," he said to the cowboy.

"Nope," was the answer. "I'm goin' t' stay fer the concert."

Mr. Perkins went to Cis, took her fingers in his, bent gallantly, and kissed them. "Wish me good luck!" he bade her.

"It won't be luck," she answered.

"Ain't his hands nice and clean!" mocked Barber. "Ain't his nails shiny!" There was an ugly glitter in the bulging eyes once more. A moment later, as he found himself close to Mr. Perkins (for the latter had come to join him), he acted upon a sudden temptation. Reaching out, with an impudent grin he tweaked the younger man lightly by the nose.

Biff!

The blow was so sudden, so powerful and straight to its mark (which was a jaw), that Big Tom's breath went--as his toes tipped up, and he began to reel backward, fanning the air with both arms.

"Ha-a-a-a!" cried the priest. "No wonder ye stand t' yer feet, Johnnie lad! Shure, that puts the faith into ye, don't it!"

Barber was against a wall, choking, spluttering. "You--you--you--!" he panted. "The idear o' hittin' a man without warnin'!"

"I know," agreed Mr. Perkins, good-naturedly. "Also, the idea of pulling a man's nose without warning."

Now Big Tom was in the proper frame of mind for the fight. "You go on downstairs!" he ordered. "And let me tell y' this: When I git done with y', they'll pick y' up on a quilt! Git that?--on a _quilt_!"

Mr. Perkins opened the hall door. "You lead the way downstairs," he said. "I trust you, Mr. Barber, but somehow I don't trust your feet."

Then the two went out, the longsh.o.r.eman trembling with rage.