Jonah [35]
each rifle as it was fired.
"A dollar even money yer can't ring the bell in six shots," cried Chook.
"Done!" shouted Stinky.
The stakes, in half-crowns, were handed to the proprietor of the gallery, and they took turns with the pea-rifle, resting their elbows on the ledge as they stared down the black tube at a white disc that seemed miles away. Each held the gun awkwardly like a broom-handle, holding their breath to prevent the barrel from wobbling. At the fifth shot, by a lucky fluke, Chook rang the bell. When he put down the rifle, Stinky was already dragging Pinkey away, his face black with anger. But Chook cried out,
"'Ere, 'arf a mo'--this is my shout!"
They were near the ice-cream stall, where trade was brisk, for the people's appetite for this delicacy is independent of the season. Pinkey, who adored ice-cream, looked with longing eyes, but Stinky turned angrily on his heel.
"'Ave a bit o' common, an' don't make a 'oly show of yerself 'cause yer lost a dollar," she whispered in disgust.
She pulled him to a seat, and the party sat down to wait their turn. Then the dealer scooped the frozen delicacy out of the can, and plastered it into the glasses as if it were mortar. And they swallowed the icy mixture in silence, allowing it to melt on the tongue to extract the flavour before swallowing. All but Stinky, who held his glass as if it belonged to someone else, disdaining to touch it. Chook's gorge rose at the sight
"Don't eat it, if it chokes yer," he cried.
With an oath Stinky threw the glass on the ground, where it broke with a noisy crash that jerked every head in their direction as if pulled by strings.
"I can pay fer wot I eat," he cried. "Come on, Liz."
The others had sprung to their feet, astonished at this prodigal waste of a delicacy fit for kings. Chook stood for a moment, glowering with rage, and then ran at his enemy; but Pinkey jumped between them.
"You do!--you do!" she cried, pushing him away with the desperate valour of a hen defending her chickens.
"Orl right, not till next time," said Chook, smiling grimly.
She pulled Stinky by the arm, and they disappeared in the crowd.
"It's all right, missis; I'll pay fer the glass," said Chook to the dealer, who began to jabber excitedly in Italian. The woman began to scrape the pieces of broken glass together, and the sight reminded Chook of the insult. His face darkened.
"Cum on, blokes, an' see a bit o' fun," he cried with a mirthless grin that showed he was dangerously excited. The three larrikins caught up with Stinky and the girl as they were crossing into Belmore Park. Stinky was explaining to some sympathizers the events that had led up to the quarrel.
"Wot would yous do if a bloke tried to sneak yer moll?" he inquired in an injured tone.
"Break 'is bleedin' neck," said Chook as he stepped up.
"When I want yer advice, I'll ask fer it," cried Stinky.
"Yer'll git it now without askin'," said Chook. "Don't open yer mouth so wide, or yer'll ketch cold."
"I don't want ter talk ter anybody as 'awks rotten cabbages through the streets," cried Stinky.
"The cabbages don't stink worse than some people I've met," Chook replied.
Stinky, who was very touchy on the score of the vile smell of his trade, boiled over.
"Never mind my trade," he shouted, "I'm as good a man as yous."
"Garn, that's only a rumour! I wouldn't let it git about," sneered Chook.
The smouldering hate of months burst suddenly into flame, and the two men rushed at each other. The others tried to separate them.
"Don't be a fool."
"Yer'll only git lumbered."
"'Ere's the traps." But the two enemies, with a sudden twist, broke away from their advisers, and threw off their hats and coats.
And as suddenly, the others formed a ring round the two antagonists, who faced each other with the savage intensity of gamecocks, with no thought but to maim and kill the enemy in front of them.
A crowd gathered, and Pinkey was pushed to the outside of the ring, where she could only judge the progress of the
"A dollar even money yer can't ring the bell in six shots," cried Chook.
"Done!" shouted Stinky.
The stakes, in half-crowns, were handed to the proprietor of the gallery, and they took turns with the pea-rifle, resting their elbows on the ledge as they stared down the black tube at a white disc that seemed miles away. Each held the gun awkwardly like a broom-handle, holding their breath to prevent the barrel from wobbling. At the fifth shot, by a lucky fluke, Chook rang the bell. When he put down the rifle, Stinky was already dragging Pinkey away, his face black with anger. But Chook cried out,
"'Ere, 'arf a mo'--this is my shout!"
They were near the ice-cream stall, where trade was brisk, for the people's appetite for this delicacy is independent of the season. Pinkey, who adored ice-cream, looked with longing eyes, but Stinky turned angrily on his heel.
"'Ave a bit o' common, an' don't make a 'oly show of yerself 'cause yer lost a dollar," she whispered in disgust.
She pulled him to a seat, and the party sat down to wait their turn. Then the dealer scooped the frozen delicacy out of the can, and plastered it into the glasses as if it were mortar. And they swallowed the icy mixture in silence, allowing it to melt on the tongue to extract the flavour before swallowing. All but Stinky, who held his glass as if it belonged to someone else, disdaining to touch it. Chook's gorge rose at the sight
"Don't eat it, if it chokes yer," he cried.
With an oath Stinky threw the glass on the ground, where it broke with a noisy crash that jerked every head in their direction as if pulled by strings.
"I can pay fer wot I eat," he cried. "Come on, Liz."
The others had sprung to their feet, astonished at this prodigal waste of a delicacy fit for kings. Chook stood for a moment, glowering with rage, and then ran at his enemy; but Pinkey jumped between them.
"You do!--you do!" she cried, pushing him away with the desperate valour of a hen defending her chickens.
"Orl right, not till next time," said Chook, smiling grimly.
She pulled Stinky by the arm, and they disappeared in the crowd.
"It's all right, missis; I'll pay fer the glass," said Chook to the dealer, who began to jabber excitedly in Italian. The woman began to scrape the pieces of broken glass together, and the sight reminded Chook of the insult. His face darkened.
"Cum on, blokes, an' see a bit o' fun," he cried with a mirthless grin that showed he was dangerously excited. The three larrikins caught up with Stinky and the girl as they were crossing into Belmore Park. Stinky was explaining to some sympathizers the events that had led up to the quarrel.
"Wot would yous do if a bloke tried to sneak yer moll?" he inquired in an injured tone.
"Break 'is bleedin' neck," said Chook as he stepped up.
"When I want yer advice, I'll ask fer it," cried Stinky.
"Yer'll git it now without askin'," said Chook. "Don't open yer mouth so wide, or yer'll ketch cold."
"I don't want ter talk ter anybody as 'awks rotten cabbages through the streets," cried Stinky.
"The cabbages don't stink worse than some people I've met," Chook replied.
Stinky, who was very touchy on the score of the vile smell of his trade, boiled over.
"Never mind my trade," he shouted, "I'm as good a man as yous."
"Garn, that's only a rumour! I wouldn't let it git about," sneered Chook.
The smouldering hate of months burst suddenly into flame, and the two men rushed at each other. The others tried to separate them.
"Don't be a fool."
"Yer'll only git lumbered."
"'Ere's the traps." But the two enemies, with a sudden twist, broke away from their advisers, and threw off their hats and coats.
And as suddenly, the others formed a ring round the two antagonists, who faced each other with the savage intensity of gamecocks, with no thought but to maim and kill the enemy in front of them.
A crowd gathered, and Pinkey was pushed to the outside of the ring, where she could only judge the progress of the