"It would?" Johnnie considered the idea.
"Certainly would—t' my way of thinkin'." In their brief acquaintance One-Eye had never before shown such interest, such animation.
"How d' you mean?"
"I mean," answered One-Eye, stoutly, "that cowboys is noble fellers!"
Before Johnnie could argue the matter further, or ask any one of the thousand questions that he would have liked to get explained regarding cowboys, the driver interrupted to demand how much farther southward he was expected to go; and as Chambers Street was even then just ahead, the eastern turn was made at once, which set Johnnie off along a new line of thought—his coming ordeal.
And this ordeal was not the meeting with Big Tom, which he dreaded enough, but which he believed would not have to be endured for at least some hours; it was the having to face, in company with this rich and important acquaintance, that gang of boys who so delighted to taunt him.
Anxiously his gray eyes searched ahead of the taxicab, which was now picking its way too swiftly through streets crowded with children. This ability to invest the present with all the reality of the future, how wonderful it could be!—but how terrible! For he was suffering greatly in advance, and writhing on the leather-covered seat, and all but pulling out his yellow hair.
"Arm ache y'?" One-Eye wanted to know.
"Guess so," faltered Johnnie. Then his face turned a sickly pale, and he shouldered a bit closer to his escort. A feeling of suffocation meant that his breath had stopped. And upon his untanned forehead oozed the perspiration of dismay. Also, his cheeks mottled. For just before them were two of those boys whom he feared!—as if they had sprung from a seam in the sidewalk! They were staring at the taxicab. They were looking at Johnnie (who stole a nervous look back). Now they were following on!
Johnnie's jaw set; his teeth clenched. He steeled himself to bear public insult.