“Baldy Malloy’s kid, eh?” Leach’s voice sounded as if he were suffering from a cold.
A man laughed, and Brick glanced in that direction to see Ike Welden standing up in a chair against the wall. Ike was partly drunk. Brick’s sweeping glance included Santel, who was leaning forward, his face tense, shoulders hunched.
“Take her easy, Brick.”
It was Harp speaking from the far end of the bar. He knew that trouble was coming. A man began crying. It was Hank Stagg. Perhaps it was from the effect of liquor—perhaps not. Meecham started to back away, but Silent blocked him.
Leach forced a smile and moved slightly closer. Whizzer was staring at Leach and now he grasped Brick’s shoulder.
“Don’t let him touch me!” The childish treble sounded loud in the silence of the room.
Leach stopped.
“Why not, Whizzer?” Brick’s lips barely moved and he did not turn his head. “Are yuh afraid of him, buddy?”
“He’s got warts on his hands! And there’s the frog on his holster!”
“Warts? Frog?”