Crackers had sprung upon his master’s assailant.
“Let go, I say!” cried Tambourine Jack.
Skip did release his hold, saying:
“You are genuine; I thought it was another.”
“And has any gentleman arrived in town that resembles me?” inquired Jack. “I should just like to set my eyes on him, I would.”
“And so would I, if I had the upper hand,” muttered the ruffian.
“Strange, you should have taken anyone for me,” said Tambourine. “You might know me by Crackers.”
“That’s where I got taken in,” said Skip. “He had a yellow dog just the size of yours, and he also called him Crackers.”
“Do you hear that, Crackers?” said Tambourine Jack, addressing the mongrel with great solemnity. “There are a couple of fakirs traveling around injuring our good name. We’ll bring an action against them”—the speaker turned to Brodie and held out his immense hands for inspection—“I’ll lay Crackers against a soda biscuit that this nervy chap did not have a pair of flips like them.”
Both the barmaid and Brodie laughed at this.