For big Bill Cooley’s face was puffed and cut, and one eye was quite closed. The other glared wickedly at those who had thrust him into prominence. His right hand was bandaged, and the knuckles of the left resembled a hamburger steak. Plainly Cooley had been in the wars.
“You fellies make me tired,” he growled. “Let me down out o’ this!”
“Tell the boss an’ his young lady first,” howled the crew.
“Go ahead, Cooley,” Joe encouraged him.
“They ain’t nothin’ to tell, Mr. Kent,” said Cooley. “I only catched Rough Shan McCane in among the lumber piles this afternoon and took a birl out of him.”
The crew yelped joyously beneath him.
“He won’t walk for a month!”
“Ye done him up good, Billy-buck!”
“The boots in his face, an’ all!”
“Hooray for dat beeg Bill Cooley, de boss bully-boy!”