"You murdering little devil, I 'll pay you for this," yelled the peddler.
"Hat the usual rates, hor special price?" asked Buster, looking interested.
A crowd began to gather, but this did not interfere with the boy's pleasure in the slightest degree.
"It's that little rat again," said a red-faced, bull-headed cobbler. "He 's the pest of the neighborhood."
"You houghtent to let your disapintment carry you so far, Mr. Smirk," said Buster, reprovingly. "'Cause your shoes don't just suit my cultivated taste in the way of feet, it don't follow nobody helse 'll buy 'em. They 're doosed poor stuff, o' course, but no doubt there is some foolish enough to wear 'em."
The cobbler cursed him enthusiastically, and, encouraged by this support, the bespattered Bekowsky borrowed a rattan of a bystander, and announced his intention of favoring Buster with a call, for the purpose of inflicting a castigation which he described as much needed.
"Well, well!" exclaimed the lad, who was to be thus favored. "Ham I to be so honored? Why did n't you let hit be known before, so Hi could pervide refreshments suitable for such a guest?"
"I 'll be up there in a minute," answered Bekowsky, flourishing his stick.
"Hi can 'ardly wait so long. Har you a-going to bring your missus?" inquired Buster, quite unintimidated. "Hi understands that common report says she is the best fighter in the family. Did she lick you last night, Hikey?"
This last was too much to be endured, so with another volley of oaths, the infuriated peddler took a firm grip on the rattan and entered the hall, the door of which stood invitingly open. The rabble assembled in front of the house gave a cheer and waited eagerly for developments. Meanwhile Buster continued to survey the crowd below with a critical glance, quite oblivious to the danger brought near by the approach of the peddler. A minute passed and then another, but the boy was still looking out the window, so it was evident that Bekowsky had not yet reached the garret. The crowd began to get uneasy.