Mike Murphy’s ready wit did not desert him at the moment when, as may be said, he discovered he was caught between two fires. One of the tramps was standing on the ground in front or below him, while the second was approaching from the rear or only a few paces farther off. And Hoke Butler, who should have been instant to rush to the help of his friend, was nowhere in sight.
“I say, docther, why don’t ye hurry up?” shouted Mike, as if calling over the head of the grinning hobo, whose eyes were fixed upon him with a dangerous expression, as if he had decided to even up matters for previous humiliations.
The peremptory manner of the lad produced its effect, and Saxy Hutt paused and looked up at him. A scratching, rattling noise caused Mike to turn his head. Biggs was furiously climbing the logs on the other side. Grasping the topmost one, he dived over, sprawling upon his hands and knees, instantly leaping to his feet, and making off at the speed he had shown in his former flight. He evidently believed in the near approach of the man whom he dreaded.
Mike swung around on his perch, so that his feet hung outside, and gazed calmly down upon the repulsive face.
“The top of the morning to ye, Saxy,” greeted the lad; “I hope ye are well.”
“Huh! yer needn’t try that bluff on us,” growled the scamp; “it won’t work; thar ain’t no doctor round these parts and I wouldn’t care a hang if there was. I owe you one, younker, and I’m going to take it out of your hide.”
To tell the truth, Mike was pleased to hear this declaration. Biggs, whom he regarded as the worst of the couple, had taken himself off and need not be considered further, so that it was one against one, and the youngster had a firm grip on his shillaleh. With a fair field and no favor Mike was content to let the best man win.
The tramp came nearer, clenched his fists and glared upward at the youth.
“Come down out of that and I’ll wring your neck fur yer.”
“Step a little closer, so I can reach ye wid a single jump.”