CHAPTER XXI A FISTIC ARGUMENT
"You're hungry and want me to give you food? I'll see you in hell first!"—From Words to the Hungry.
I left my job on Tuesday, and tramped about for the rest of the week foot-free and reckless. The nights were fine, and sleeping out of doors was a pleasure. On Saturday night I found myself in Burn's model lodging-house, Greenock. I paid for the night's bedding, and got the use of a frying-pan to cook a chop which I had bought earlier in the day. Although it was now midsummer a large number of men were seated around the hot-plate on the ground floor, where some weighty matter was under discussion. A man with two black eyes was carrying on a whole-hearted argument with a ragged tramp in one corner of the room. I proceeded to fry my trifle of meat, and was busily engaged on my job when I became aware of a disturbance near the door. A drunken man had come in, and his oaths were many, but it was impossible to tell what he was swearing at. All at once I turned round, for I heard a phrase that I knew full well.
"There's a good time comin', though we may never live to see it," said the drunken man. The speaker was Moleskin Joe, and face to face he recognised me immediately.
"Dermod Flynn, by God!" he cried. "Dermod—Flynn—by—God! How did you get on with your milkin', sonny? You're the only man I ever cheated out of five bob, and there's another man cheatin' you out of your bit of steak this very minute."
I turned round rapidly to my frying-pan, and saw a man bending over it. This fellow, who was of middle age, and unkempt appearance, had broken an egg over my chop, and was busily engaged in cooking both. I had never seen the man before.
"You're at the wrong frying-pan," I roared, knowing his trick.
"You're a damned liar," he answered.