"Howdy do, gentlemen!" Jimmie quietly said as he neared the group. Several jumped up in amazement, for all had been too absorbed to note the advent of the newcomer.
"Well, what do you want, now?" demanded one of the lads, addressing Jimmie in a gruff tone of voice with a note of menace.
"I'm looking for your captain, or whatever you call him," announced Jimmie in even tones that belied the feelings surging within his breast. Not a hint did he give of the storm within.
"This ain't no time to be runnin' around disturbin' us!" growled the spokesman. "You've done enough of that already!"
"That's just what I wanted to speak about, if you please," replied Jimmie in his most suave tones. "I feel that there has been too much interference already, and I wanted to square things!"
"Oh, you do, do you?" roughly demanded another lad of burly proportions, shoving his way through the group now gathered in a close knot. "Who give you any license to be runnin' around squarin' things? I don't see any streets named after you!"
A hot retort was on Jimmie's lips, but he choked it back.
From the rear of the crowd came the voice of another lad who, following the instincts of his kind, was ready to give advice, but slow to follow it with actions of his own:
"Soak de guy, Pete. He's too lippy, anyhow. His whole gang's too fresh! Dey tink dey can run us 'cause dey got money!"
"Sure, soak him!" cried another, edging forward.