"You a fighter?" inquired the gorilla, in a voice in which awe, admiration and alcohol mingled.
Mr. Epps contracted his brow and narrowed his eyes.
"Yep," he said impressively. "I'm Terrible Battling Epps. I'd rather fight than eat." He turned sternly to the gorilla. "Why are you 'sguised? Wad did you do?"
"Why, you poor nut," put in the girl in the beads, "we're going to the Pagan Rout."
"Sure, that's it," chimed in Jake. "Goin' to the Pagan Row. Come on along, Terrible."
"Aw, I'm tired of Pagan Routs," said Mr. Epps loftily. But the suggestion speeded up the pumpings of his heart.
"Oh, do come!" urged the girl in the beads.
"Ain't got no 'sguise," said Mr. Epps. He was wavering.
"Aw, come on!" cried the gorilla, clapping him on the shoulder till his teeth rattled. "Proud to have you with us, Terrible. I know a live one when I see one. Come on along. You'll see a lot of your friends there."
His friends? Tidbury thought of Martha.