"Can't forget he was a gamekeeper!" he tittered. "Touch his at and all, didn't you, Red Beard?"
"And wish I'd never stopped touchin it!" shouted the giant. "Blasted young fool that I were!—Thought I'd take a short cut to fortune, same as the rest.—And where's it landed me?"
He swept his hand around.
"Heark to Red Beard!" giggled Fat George. "Quite the Methody man, ain't he?"
A gust of passion darkened the giant's face. He surged through the water towards the boat.
"—well square it!" he foamed. "I'll—well square you, you lump o lard with the heart of a maggot!" He stopped, steadying down to a fierce scorn.
"And he would ha—well squared it only for you messin about with that blasted knife o your'n be'ind him."
"He would ha—well squared it only for you knockin the blasted knife up!" shrilled the fat man. "That's the best you can do. Pretty set for a man to be 'sociated with."
He bent over his hand; his locks fell about his face; and he rocked to and fro like a weeping woman.
The sound of angry voices brought others trooping round the Head. Some slopped along in the water, others trailed along the edge. The eyes of all were down, hunting for prey.