"I'm going to slug you!"
While these friendly salutations were taking place, Flea Obie and Wash Simmons, the Dickinson halves, approached Piggy, who, sick at heart, was stamping his feet and churning his arms to convey to Red Dog, opposite, the impression that he was thirsting for his blood.
Wash gave Piggy one withering glance and said loudly to the Red Dog:
"This fellow's a quitter. He's got yellow in his eyes. Smash him good and hard, Red Dog. Don't waste any time about it, either."
"He's got a chicken liver," said Red Dog, who looked a reed beside the sturdy Piggy. "He shuts his eyes when he tackles! I'll fix him. Huh!"
"Ah, go on now, go on, go on," said Piggy, with a desperate attempt at lightheartedness.
Flea Obie, lovely no longer in mud-stained jacket and pirate band around his forehead, strode up to Piggy and added:
"Old Sport, let me give you a word of advice. When we strike your end, the best thing you can do is to lie down quick and soft. Savez?"
Luckily for Piggy, whose imagination was panic-driven by this perfectly innocuous braggadocio, the torrent of conversation was checked by a cry of exultation.