Brodie. Damn you!
Moore. Amen. But you’ve got your orders.
Brodie (with pistol). Orders? hey? orders?
Smith (between them). Deacon, Deacon!—Badger, are you mad?
Moore. Muck! That’s my motto. Wot I ses is, Has he got his orders or has he not? That’s wot’s the matter with him.
Smith. Deacon, half a tick. Humphrey, I’m only a light weight, and you fight at twelve stone ten, but I’m damned if I’m going to stand still and see you hitting a pal when he’s down.
Moore. Muck! That’s wot I think of you.
Smith. He’s a cut above us, ain’t he? He never sold his backers, did he? We couldn’t have done without him, could we? You dry up about his old man, and his sister; and don’t go on hitting a pal when he’s knocked out of time and cannot hit back, for, damme, I will not stand it.
Moore. Amen to you. But I’m cock of this here thundering walk, and that cove’s got his orders.