He danced off in the moonlight, shaking his fingers in the air with wild gesticulations and kicking his short bandy legs high, right and left,—but softly, softly, as if he were shod with felt.
The "first player" stood for a moment bewildered by this wild scheme to scare the manager. Its absurdity seemed to sober him. He strode off suddenly after the dancing figure. A clutch stopped it.
"You fool," he said, with an oath, "I mean to burn the house to the ground, and you know it!"
"Well, warn't I agreeable,—if there's no insurance?" replied the bow-legged man.
"I tell you I heard from Gorham's own mouth that the policy expired yesterday at noon. He and the agent had a burst-up, and he wouldn't renew. I heard him tell that deadheaded crony of his; you know Gorham has got a tongue that is set on a pivot and wags at both ends."
The stocky, bandy-legged figure swayed back and forth with extravagant manifestations of delight. "That gets Gorham! I'd have been sorry for the Insurance Company if it wuz ter lose, ye know. Sorry fur true! I always had a soft place in my heart for a corporation—pore motherless thing!"
His prominent teeth gleamed,—it was as much a snarl as a smile.
"We are wastin' time," he said suddenly, with an air of returning to business. "Take this can o' kerosene an' empty it on the floor of the green-room, while I fix the other combustibles."
The "first player" stood amazed. "You blamed idiot!" he exclaimed, "there's oil enough on these canvases to send the whole place a-flaring like perdition."
The thickset man's fierceness returned.