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Updated: June 4, 2025
During the past night two or three ruffians had broken into the stable, had shattered the windows of the new carriage and defaced its panels, and had beaten the coachman. "There!" cried Rosy. "How much longer have we got to live down here among all these savages and hoodlums?" Eliza Marshall made no reply, and Rosy felt that this in itself was to have gained a point.
Intermingled among them were the favored hoodlums of the Jacobin party, execrating the victims and howling with glee whenever the dread axe fell. Among the riff-raff, Mere Frochard and her precious son Jacques Frochard were conspicuous.
For a while he had been a waif and a hoodlum, and by strict attention to the code of Barrel Alley's gang, he had risen to be king of the hoodlums. No one, not even Blokey Mattenburg himself, could throw a rock into a trolley car with the precision of Tom Slade. Then, on an evil day, he was tempted to watch the scouts and it proved fatal.
Far be it from me to defend the act, but it was about the best thing that Tom ever did so far as his own interests were concerned. That was the beginning of Tom's transformation into a scout. He fell for scouting with a vengeance. It opened up a new world to him. To be sure, this king of the hoodlums did not capitulate all at once not he.
Just at that impressive moment when the Golden Gates were supposed to be ajar, and dear little Eva's spirit was about to pass the gate-keeper, a couple of rural hoodlums in the starboard side of the tent began to whistle the suggestive psalm, 'There'll Be a Hot Time in the Old Town To-night. When I heard it I felt convinced it wouldn't be safe to give that programme for more than one night in any town.
"I know we live in Mullen Lane and it is not always possible for me to dress my children as nicely as I wish; but they shall not run barefoot like the little hoodlums that live about us. And Syd bothers me to death about it." But Janice could only laugh a bit at this.
An egg flittered towards the fugitives. It struck Miss Starr on the back, soiling her pretty dress. Andy ran back, Midget held on one arm. He let drive with his free hand and knocked the egg thrower head over heels. This was the signal for a wild riot. The crowd of young hoodlums pressed close on Andy, and he retreated to the others.
Bombing Javelin would have been a good move for Ravick, if it had worked. It hadn't, though, and now it was likely to be the thing that would finish him for good. It wasn't going to be any picnic, either. He had his gang of hoodlums, and he could count on Morton Hallstock's twenty or thirty city police; they'd put up a fight, and a hard one.
One can readily understand why owners and drivers of horses should feel and even exhibit a marked aversion towards the automobile, since, from their stand-point, it is an unmitigated nuisance; but why the hoodlums who stand about the street corners should be animated by a seemingly irresistible desire to hurl stones and brickbats as well as epithets at passing automobiles is a mystery worth solving; it presents an interesting problem in psychology.
When he stands up, breathless, bleeding at the mouth, but otherwise sound, the crowd of 'Varsity admirers go into a riot of rapture, throwing up caps, hugging each other in ecstatic war dances, while the team walk quietly about recovering their wind, and resisting the efforts of their friends to elevate them. "Quit it!" growls Campbell. "Get off the field! Get back, you hoodlums!"
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