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See?" hissed the fat-faced boy, maintaining the horrible juxtaposition. "Well, all right," said Penrod, swallowing. "I don't want 'em much." And when the pose had been relaxed, he stared at his new friend for a moment, almost with reverence. Then he brightened. "Come on, Rupe!" he cried enthusiastically, as he climbed the fence. "We'll give our dogs a little live meat 'bo!"
Appalled, the two spectators retreated to the doorway nearest the yard, where they stood dumbly watching the cataclysm. The struggle increased in primitive simplicity: time and again the howling Rupe got to his knees only to go down again as the earnest brothers, in their own way, assisted him to a more reclining position.
Rupe paused but for an extremely condensed survey of the horrible advance of the brothers, and then, uttering a blood-curdled scream of fear, ran out of the stable and up the alley at a speed he had never before attained, so that even Dan had hard work to keep within barking distance.
They're kind of pets; I've had 'em all summer I got names for em, and " "Looky here, 'bo. Did you hear me say we'll let 'Dan kill 'em?" "Yes, but I won't " "WHAT won't you?" Rupe became sinister immediately. "It seems to me you're gettin' pretty fresh around here." "Well, I don't want " Mr.
Presently three men came into the wigwam, railing-men, dressed in gray Canada homespun and heavy Scotch bonnets. The light of the fire outside flashed on their faces, as they stooped to enter the elm-bark tent, and in the foremost I recognized the hideous Rupe Falardeau, Junior. This man carried in his hand a small tin pail full of whiskey.
At this bidding, Rupe approached, while Sam, still protesting, moved to the threshold of the outer door; but Penrod seized him by the shoulders and swung him indoors with a shout. "Little baby wants to run home to its Mom-muh! Here he is, Rupie."
"The middle one." "Where?" "There!" exclaimed Rupe Collins, seizing and vigorously twisting the wartless finger naively offered for his inspection. "Quit!" shouted Penrod in agony. "QUEE-yut!" "Say your prayers!" commanded Rupe, and continued to twist the luckless finger until Penrod writhed to his knees. "OW!" The victim, released, looked grievously upon the still painful finger.
In the deck-fight in which old Rupe got his ugly mark Pete Walker had a hand; and the part he took in it, as related to me by old Quatreaux, who was also present, affords a good example of the tact and coolness which gave him such mastery over the wild spirits among whom he worked out his destiny.
Quite shabbily dressed he was, and a careworn expression on his face made him look ten years older. He wore glasses, which he pushed up on his forehead, and then took a good look at Rupert. "Well, well, Rupe, and where have you been keeping yourself? An' I've had luck, I tell you you haven't heard, perhaps?" "No; I haven't. What's it been, Volmer?"
The last word had not rolled away, when the gleaming knife flashed from the hand of Rupe, glanced close by Walker's ear, and sped quivering into the paddle-box, just behind his head. "Good for you, Rupe!" exclaimed Walker, lowering his pistol, with a pleasant smile, "good for you! but, sacré bapteme! how dead I'd have shot you, if you hadn't dropped that knife!"
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