'Look here, you won't disappoint poor Brummy the Nut,' pleaded Mike, with mock gravity.
The deputation of two returned after another conference.
'How would you take it,' asked the first speaker—. 'mind, we're just asking, being anxious to bring about a friendly meeting—how would you take it if our man gave you a bit of a clip over the ear?'
This was put as a reasonable possibility, and as a simple and pleasant method of establishing a casus belli that might satisfy Done's ridiculous punctilio.
'I'd take it very badly,' said Jim warmly, 'and probably knock your man's confounded head off his shoulders with this pick-handle.'
''Twouldn't be done unfriendly,' said the second man in a hurt tone.
'Why doesn't your man show himself?'
'They guessed his beauty would prejudice you,' said the Prodigal. 'You might have conscientious scruples, and refuse to do anything to mar so perfect a specimen of Nature's handiwork.'
One of the strangers beckoned, and his party advanced with their champion. Done gazed wonderingly at the man they brought against him. Brummy the Nut was perhaps five feet nine inches in height, but walked in the stooping attitude of a person under a burden, his long arms swinging in a manner that strengthened the hint of gorilla in his broad, battered face; he dragged his feet as if the ball and chain were still at his heels, and, despite the enormous strength suggested by his massive limbs and great trunk, bore himself with a childish meekness in ludicrous contrast with his sinister appearance. All that long years in a convict hell could do to rob a man of the grace of humanity and harden him to pain and labour had been done for Brummy the Nut. The Nut favoured Jim, Mike, and the Prodigal each with a duck of the head and a movement of his hand towards the forehead.
'This is our man, Brummy the Nut,' said the party's spokesman.