"What's that?" said a customer.
"HIS THREE PATRONS, WITH A HOPELESS ATTEMPT TO APPEAR UNCONCERNED, WERE COMING DOWN THE ROAD."
The landlord, who was glancing at the paper, put it down and listened. "Sounds like old Todd at it again," he said, coming round to the front of the bar.
The noise came closer. "It is old Todd," said another customer, and hastily finishing his beer moved with the others to the door. Captain Brisket, with a fine air of indifference, lounged after them, and peering over their shoulders obtained a good view of the approaching disturbance.
His three patrons, with a hopeless attempt to appear unconcerned, were coming down the road, while close behind a respectable-looking old gentleman with a long, white beard and a voice like a fog-horn almost danced with excitement. They quickened their pace as they neared the inn, and Mr. Chalk, throwing appearances to the winds, almost dived through the group at the door. He was at once followed by Mr. Tredgold, but Mr. Stobell, black with wrath, paused in the doorway.
"Fetch 'em out," vociferated the old gentleman as the landlord barred the doorway with his arms. "Fetch that red-whiskered one out and I'll eat him."
"What's the matter, Mr. Todd?" inquired the landlord, with a glance at his friends. "What's he done?"
"Done?" repeated the excitable Mr. Todd. "Done? They come walking on to my wharf as if the place——Fetch him out," he bawled, breaking off suddenly. "Fetch him out and I'll skin him alive."
Captain Brisket took Mr. Stobell by the cuff and after a slight altercation drew him inside.