“But I haven’t got it in me,” sobbed Jake.
“Oh! yes you have. Let ’em have it!”
But Jake’s idea of “letting ’em have it” was of a more substantial sort than mere words. Stooping down, he armed himself with a couple of ale bottles, and flourishing one in each hand, he threatened one and all of his aggressors.
“Eh! eh! is it growing vicious?” called out some one with a shout of laughter.
The ale bottle flew from Jake’s right hand and knocked off the hat of the speaker.
“Oh, I say! look here! none of that now, you know! that’s carrying things a little too far even for the Derby Day!” exclaimed the bare-headed individual, groping in vain for his hat, but keeping his good humor.
“Oh! see here, governor! Here’s your ape getting dangerous! chain it hup before it ’urts some un!” sang out another.
Away flew the other ale bottle and struck this counsellor in the chest and knocked him heels over head.
“Hi! ho! here! where’s the police!” called out a half score of voices.
But the police were not forthcoming, and the floored man picked himself up, laughing merrily and saying good-humoredly: