“Aye, to be sure!” said Sammy testily to his friend. “That's th' game is it? Theer's a feight on hond. That's reet, my lads, lay in thy beer, an' mak' dom'd fools o' thysens, an' tha'lt get a chance to sleep on th' soft side o' a paving-stone i' th' lock-ups.”
He had been a fighting man himself in his young days, and had prided himself particularly upon “showing his muscle,” in Riggan parlance, but he had never been such a man as Lowrie. His comparatively gentlemanly encounters with personal friends had always been fair and square, and in many cases had laid the foundation for future toleration, even amiability. He had never hesitated to “tak' a punse” at an offending individual, but he had always been equally ready to shake hands when all was over, and in some cases, when having temporarily closed a companion's eyes in the heat of an argument, he had been known to lead him to the counter of “th' Public,” and bestow nectar upon him in the form of “sixpenny.” But of Lowrie, even the fighting community, which was the community predominating in Riggan, could not speak so well. He was “ill-farrant,” and revengeful,—ready to fight, but not ready to forgive. He had been known to bear a grudge, and remember it, when it had been forgotten by other people. His record was not a clean one, and accordingly he was not a favorite of Sammy Craddock's.
A short time afterward somebody passed the window facing the street, and Lowrie started up with an oath.
“Theer he is!” he exclaimed. “Now fur it. I thowt he'd go this road. I'll see what tha's getten to say fur thysen, my lad.”
He was out in the street almost before Craddock and his companion had time to reach the open window, and he had stopped the passer-by, who paused to confront him haughtily.
“Why!” cried Sammy, slapping his knee, “I'm dom'd if it is na th' Lunnon engineer chap.”
Fergus Derrick stood before his enemy with anything but a propitiatory air. That this brutal fellow who had caused him trouble enough already, should interfere with his very progress in the street, was too much for his high spirit to bear.
“I comn out here,” said Lowrie, “to see if tha had owt to say to me.”
“Then,” replied Fergus, “you may go in again, for I have nothing.”
Lowrie drew a step nearer to him.