“I said then,” he went on, “that if Pete— Say, it’s getting beastly hot in here. Let’s have the door open.”
In spite of the protests, he opened the portal into the narrow hallway, and continued his rambling and his talk.
“I made up my mind then that if Pete wasn’t drowned, that if I ever saw his dear, foolish, homely face again, I’d—I’d——”
“Be a better man,” Hal suggested.
“Learn to write English,” offered Allan.
“Pay your debts,” muttered Pete over his pipe-stem.
“I’d take a fall out of him!” concluded Tommy, savagely. At the same instant he put a hand under Pete’s chin, tipped him heels over head backward onto the floor, smothered his outcries by banging the saddle down over his face, punched him twice in the ribs—and flew! His forethought in opening the door saved him. As he dived through he slammed it behind him in Pete’s face, and the others heard four wild leaps on the staircase. Then all was still save for Pete’s chuckles. But stay! What sound was that from beneath the window; what doleful wailings broke upon the night air? They hearkened.
“Cowardy, cowardy, cowardy cat!” shrilled Tommy. “Dare you to come down, Pete Burley!”
Pete threw up a front window. There was a sound of hasty footfalls and an exclamation as Tommy collided with an ash-barrel. Then from far up the street came a last defiant challenge: “O Fresh!”