XVI
WHEN KELCEY WENT TO borrow money from old
Bleecker, Jones and the others, he discovered that he was below
them in social position. Old Bleecker said gloomily that he did not
see how he could loan money at that time. When Jones asked him to
have a drink, his tone was careless. O’Connor recited at length
some bewildering financial troubles of his own. In them all he saw
that something had been reversed. They remained silent upon many
occasions, when they might have grunted in sympathy for him.
As he passed along the street near his home he
perceived Fidsey Corcoran and another of the gang. They made
eloquent signs. “Are yen wid us?”
He stopped and looked at them. “What’s wrong with
yeh?”
“Are yeh wid us er not,” demanded Fidsey. “New
barkeep’! Big can! We got it over in d’ lot. Big can, I tell yeh.”
He drew a picture in the air, so to speak, with his enthusiastic
fingers.
Kelcey turned dejectedly homeward. “Oh, I guess
not, this roun’”
“What’s d’ matter wi‘che?” said Fidsey. “Yer
gittin’ t’ be a reg’lar willie! Come ahn, I tell yeh! Youse gits
one smoke at d’ can b‘cause yeh b’longs t’ d’ gang, an’ yeh don’t
wanta give it up widout er scrap! See? Some udder john’ll git yer
smoke. Come ahn!”
When they arrived at the place among the bowlders
in the vacant lot, one of the band had a huge and battered tin-pail
tilted afar up. His throat worked convulsively. He was watched
keenly and anxiously by five or six others. Their eyes followed
carefully each fraction of distance that the pail was lifted. They
were very silent.
Fidsey burst out violently as he perceived what was
in progress. “Heh, Tim, yeh big sojer, le’ go d’ can! What ’a yeh
tink! Wese er in dis! Le’ go dat!”
He who was drinking made several angry protesting
contortions of his throat. Then he put down the pail and swore.
“Who’s a big sojer? I ain’t gittin’ more’n me own smoke! Yer too
bloomin’ swift! Yeh’d tink yeh was d’ on’y mug what owned dis can!
Close yer face while I gits me smoke!”
He took breath for a moment and then returned the
pail to its tilted position. Fidsey went to him and worried and
clamored. He interfered so seriously with the action of drinking
that the other was obliged to release the pail again for fear of
choking.
Fidsey grabbed it and glanced swiftly at the
contents. “Dere! Dat’s what I was hollerin’ at! Lookut d’ beer! Not
‘nough t’ wet yer t’roat! Yehs can’t have not‘in’ on d’ level wid
youse damn’ tanks! Youse was a reg’lar resevoiy, Tim Connigan! Look
what yeh lef ’ us! Ah, say, youse was a dandy! What ’a yeh tink we
ah? Willies? Don’ we want no smoke? Say, lookut dat can! It’s
drier’n hell! What ’a yeh tink?”
Tim glanced in at the beer. Then he said: “Well, d’
mug what come b‘fore me, he on’y lef ’ me dat much. Blue Billee, he
done d’ swallerin’! I on‘y had a tas’e!”
Blue Billie, from his seat near, called out in
wrathful protest: “Yeh lie, Tim. I never had more’n a mouf-ful!” An
inspiration evidently came to him then, for his countenance
suddenly brightened, and, arising, he went toward the pail. “I
ain’t had me reg’lar smoke yit! Guess I come in aheader Fidsey,
don’ I?”
Fidsey, with a sardonic smile, swung the pail
behind him. “I guess nit! Not dis minnet! Youse hadger smoke. If
yeh ain’t, yeh don’t git none. See?”
Blue Billie confronted Fidsey determinedly. “D’
‘ell I don’t!”
“Nit,” said Fidsey.
Billie sat down again.
Fidsey drank his portion. Then he manoeuvred
skilfully before the crowd until Kelcey and the other youth took
their shares. “Youse er a mob ‘a tanks,” he told the gang. “Nobody
’ud git not’in’ if dey wasn’t on t’ yehs!”
Blue Billie’s soul had been smouldering in hate
against Fidsey. “Ah, shut up! Youse ain’t gota take care ‘a dose
two mugs, dough. Youse hadger smoke, ain’t yeh? Den yer tr’u. G’
home!”
“Well, I hate t’ see er bloke use ‘imself fer a
tank,” said Fidsey. “But youse don’t wanta go jollyin’ ’round ’bout
d’ can, Blue, er youse’ll git done.”
“Who’ll do me?” demanded Blue Billie, casting his
eye about him.
“Kel’ will,” said Fidsey, bravely.
“D’ ’ell he will?”
“Dat’s what he will!”
Blue Billie made the gesture of a warrior. “He
never saw d’ day ‘a his life dat he could do me little finger. If
’e says much t’ me, I’ll push ’is face all over d’ lot.”
Fidsey called to Kelcey. “Say, Kel, hear what dis
mug is chewin’?”
Kelcey was apparently deep in other matters. His
back was half-turned.
Blue Billie spoke to Fidsey in a battleful voice.
“Did ‘e ever say ’e could do me?”
Fidsey said: “Soitenly ‘e did. Youse is dead easy,
’e says. He says he kin punch holes in you, Blue!”
“When did ’e say it?”
“Oh—any time. Youse is a cinch, Kel’ says.”
Blue Billie walked over to Kelcey. The others of
the band followed him exchanging joyful glances.
“Did youse say yeh could do me?”
Kelcey slowly turned, but he kept his eyes upon the
ground. He heard Fidsey darting among the others telling of his
prowess, preparing them for the downfall of Blue Billie. He stood
heavily on one foot and moved his hands nervously. Finally he said,
in a low growl, “Well, what if I did?”
The sentence sent a happy thrill through the band.
It was the formidable question. Blue Billie braced himself. Upon
him came the responsibility of the next step. The gang fell back a
little upon all sides. They looked expectantly at Blue
Billie.
He walked forward with a deliberate step until his
face was close to Kelcey.
“Well, if you did,” he said, with a snarl between
his teeth, “I’m goin’ t’ t’ump d’ life outa yeh right heh!”
A little boy, wild of eye and puffing, came down
the slope as from an explosion. He burst out in a rapid treble, “Is
dat Kelcey feller here? Say, yeh ol’ woman’s sick again. Dey want
yeh! Yehs better run! She’s awful sick!”
The gang turned with loud growls. “Ah, git outa
here!” Fidsey threw a stone at the little boy and chased him a
short distance, but he continued to clamor, “Youse better come,
Kelcey feller! She’s awful sick! She was hollerin’! Dey been
lookin’ fer yeh over’n hour!” In his eagerness he returned part
way, regardless of Fidsey!
Kelcey had moved away from Blue Billie. He said: “I
guess I’d better go!” They howled at him. “Well,” he continued, “I
can’t—I don’t wanta—I don’t wanta leave me mother be—she—”
His words were drowned in the chorus of their
derision. “Well, lookahere”—he would begin and at each time their
cries and screams ascended. They dragged at Blue Billie. “Go fer
‘im, Blue! Slug ’im! Go ahn!”
Kelcey went slowly away while they were urging Blue
Billie to do a decisive thing. Billie stood fuming and blustering
and explaining himself. When Kelcey had achieved a considerable
distance from him, he stepped forward a few paces and hurled a
terrible oath. Kelcey looked back darkly.