The crowd heard him and drew in closer, scenting trouble. Simpson heard him and veered off. “An’ next we have three ladies from th’ Imperial Harem o’ Madagascar—”
“Are yuh goin’ to gi’ me them boots?”
Simpson raised his voice to drown the laughter. “Three o’ the faires’ flowers in Eastern womanhood! On th’ inside we have no less ’n twenty-seven—”
“He’s a liar!” “Shine” shouted to the crowd. “He’s a liar. He’s got nuthin’ at all inside. He’s a liar an’ a fakir. He promised me a pair o’ boots! He’s a liar an’ a fakir! He’s—”
Simpson leaped on him. The three frightened Beauties jumped screaming into the arms of the crowd. In another minute the whole front of the “Alhambra” was shaking with the uproar of a riot.
The blaze, caught at close range, seemed to snuff out
See page 90
“Shine” was a Bowery fighter. He turned in Simpson’s clutch and threw him, and while the “boosters” were forcing their way to the platform to aid their employer, he pounded Simpson in a fury. It was impossible to separate him from his struggling victim, so they dragged him from the platform, and Simpson with him; and then some of the roughs in the crowd raised a cry of “Fair fight there! Fair fight!” and attacked the boosters. In the midst of it a gang of Coney thieves made a raid on the ticket office, and Mrs. Simpson’s wild yells rose above the tumult in a shrill appeal for help.
There followed a free fight and a general scramble for the gate receipts.