"Soon enough ye'll find out what I mean, Thirkle; that's what. If the two of ye think yer going to side together ag'in' me, well and good; but look out for Bad Buckrow, I say. I'll make my meanin' blasted clear, too. Mind that."
"My jaw's broke!" cried Petrak, struggling to his feet, breathing hard. Then without warning he sprang on Buckrow's back with a snarl like an animal, and the two of them went down in the narrow passage.
"Gawd a'mighty!" screamed Buckrow, with every bit of air in his lungs, and I heard Petrak strike again.
"Red—he got me—he—"
"Good!" said Thirkle into my ear, as if speaking to me. "I never thought the little chap had the innards for it, but he did as long as he could strike from behind."
Petrak was holding Buckrow down, and his victim was breathing hard and writhing under him, with his face buried in the ground. He coughed twice, as if there was something caught in his throat, and then was still.
"Did ye get him Petrak?"
"I done for him, Thirkle. I done for him good. That's the last of Bucky.
Mind how I fooled him, Thirkle? Said my jaw was broke."
"Good work, Reddy, lad. Good work, but be sure or he'll wing ye yet. Sure he ain't playing chink with ye?"
"Oh, he's done right enough. That leaves two of us—hey, Thirkle? Ye know Bucky would a done for ye but for me—wouldn't he, Thirkle? Ye know that's right—don't ye, Thirkle?"