"Do you mind the Clydebank woman, Moleskin?" asked Clancy, making a final effort in his enquiries. "She was fond of her pint, and had a horrid squint."
"I'll squint you, by God!" roared Moleskin, reaching out and gripping Clancy by the scruff of the neck. "If I hear you talkin' about Clydebank again, I'll thicken your ear for you, seein' that I cannot break your nose! And you, you red-bearded sprat, you!" this to Red Billy Davis; "if you mention Gourock Ellen again, I'll leave your eyes in such a state that you'll not be fit to see one of your own gang for six months to come."
Just at that moment the two fighters came in, and attracted the whole attention of the party inside by their appearance. They looked worn and dishevelled, their clothes were torn to ribbons, their cheeks were covered with clay and blood, and their hair and beards looked like mops which had been used in sweeping the bottom of a midden. One good result of the two men's timely entrance was that the rest of the party forgot their own particular grievances.
"Quite pleased with yoursels now?" asked Red Billy Davis, but the combatants did not answer. They sat down, took off their boots, scraped the clay from their wounds, and turned into bed.
"Moleskin, do you know Gourock Ellen?" I asked my mate when later I found him sitting alone in a quiet corner.
Moleskin glared at me furiously. "By this and by that, Flynn! if you talk to me about Gourock Ellen again I'll scalp you," he answered.
For a moment I felt a trifle angry, but having sense enough to see that Moleskin was sore cut with the outcome of the argument, and knowing that he was the only friend whom I had in all Kinlochleven I kept silent, stifling the words of anger that had risen to my tongue. By humouring one another's moods we have become inseparable friends.
One by one the men turned into bed. Maloney having collared all the day's sub. there was no more gambling that night. Joe sat for a while bare naked, getting a belly heat at the fire, as he himself expressed it, before he turned into bed.
"Where have you left your duds, Flynn?" he asked, as he rose to his feet and extinguished the naphtha lamp which hung from the roof by a piece of wire. I was already under the blankets, glad of their warmth, meagre though it was, after so many long chilly nights on the road.
"They are under my pillow," I answered.