Spring-Heel'd Jack, The Terror of London — page 193: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

I _- = “ SPRING-HEEL’D JACK : THE TERROR OF LONDON. gelf in readiness to resent any insult or injury that; might be offered to him. . He had heard of that locality, though it was the first time he had been within it; and he knew that any person wearing a decent garb was pretty well sure to be molested. “Well, sir, what is your business with me ?”’ asked Jack. - **T’ll soon show you. Tip up, or over you go,” was the reply. | “Tip up what?” said Jack, throwing back his cloak, and clenching his hands. “Oh! you’re green, ain’t you? black soon, if you don’t. Shell out! I don’t stand any palaver, now. Let’s have it, and sharp, too.”’ “Take it!” said Jack, throwing all his force into his arm, and dealing the fellow a blow on the mouth that sent him down as if shot, sprawling amid the heap of rubbish. © ‘¢ Are you satisfied ?”’ asked Jack, in a calm tone ; “if not, I will accommodate you with the same dose again. You have mistaken your man, you bullying scoundrel.” “Strike me lucky!” yelled the fellow, scrambling to his feet. ‘‘ Do you know who you are hitting on?” | “T can pretty well guess,” retorted Jack. “ A scoundrel who fancied he could intimidate, and then rob me with impunity—a bully and a cur!’ “I'm Jem Slogger, who has fought in the Ring, licked my man in five ninutes, and come out smiling,’ growled the man. “ Had I been your man, you would have come out pummeled toa mummy,” said Jack. *‘ Stand aside, and suffer me to pass on my way, unless you desire another specimen of my skill in self- defence.” ‘Curse me, if I do,” growled the man; “‘ for if Ican’t lick you myself, I can get a dozen to help me. Youre a likely chap to have a few pounds about you, and I mean to have them. Whew-w-w !”’ The man blew a long, shrill whistle, which Jack suddenly ended by another blow on the mouth, which again sent the fellow down, and, leaping over his body, Jack hurried towards the end of the court. But he was not destined to reach it without interruption. Another low, brutal-looking fellow sprang from a doorway, and flinging his arms around Jack’s waist held him in a vice-like grip. Jack, in turn, caught the fellow round the waist, and, lifting him from his feet, gave him a heavy back-fall, coming down upon the man with all his weight, nearly driving every particle of breath out of his body, and leaving him stunned on the ground. Up he sprang, and again made for the entry of the alley; but he was clasped from behind by Slogger, and dragged backwards towards the rubbish heap. “No, you don’t,” growled the fellow; “I hain’t done so easy. ll have what you've got afore you leave this place—oh !” The hands unclasped themselves, and the fellow staggered with his head bleeding, while a shower, of broken pantile fell around our hero. You'll be! h 199 In surprise, Jack cast his eyes upwards. ‘‘Scamper, Jack! scamper!” cried a voice above him ; “and if he touches you again, I'll let him have another tile bang on his head! ” Jack recognised the voice of Joey the Sweeper, and, with a grateful look at the boy, he sprang towards the entry of the Buildings, and out into the open street beyond, without further molestation. : He did not pause directly, deeming it best to put some little distance between himself and the place, and therefore drawing his cloak about im, he hurried along at a quick walk for some little time. Meeting with no one whom he had any reason to fear, Jack slackened his pace, and sauntered leisurely along till he reached the corner of Davis-street, where, even at that late hour, a board, balanced upon a basket, leaned against the post at the corner, and an old lady, neither overclean in dress or appearance, sat beside it smoking a short black pipe. “Well, Mother Mokes,”’ said Jack, pausing in front of the dame, “there you are, enjoying your pipe.” The old woman removed the pipe from between her lips, and puffed out a mouthful of black smoke, as she laid it on the top of the post. ‘Sure, honey, and it’s the only enjoyment I’ve been afther knowing since Pat was laid in his coffin,” she replied. ‘* And who was Pat?” asked Jack. “Pat, your honour? Sure now, and Pat was Misther Pat Mokes, that used to come a-courting Biddy in swate ould Ireland, and that’s meself, yer honour, sure.” “Your husband ?” : ‘““Bedad! an’ it was the praste made him that same,’ said Biddy, polishing the rosy skin of an apple on the dirty apron suspended from her waist. ‘“‘ And so he is no more, eh ?”’ said Jack. ‘““Och! yer honour, he’s been no more for nigh tin. years—yes, it’s quite that since his wake. It’s the broth of a boy he was! and it’s a mighty shame he didn't live longer ; for then, your honour, it’s selling. apples I wouldn’t be afther doing.” ‘¢ You don’t find it very profitable, I sup- pose ?”’ said Jack, “do you, Mrs. Mokes? sitting here all day, and half into the night 2?” “Och! yer honour, but it’s thrue as my soul it’s the loss I been living on and pay- ing me rint into the bargain for the last seven ear.” “That's bad,” said Jack, with asmile. . “Bad isit?” said Biddy. ‘‘ Bedad! but_it’s worse than bad; for it’s meself that can’t get a glass of gin to warm me old heart widout. taking it out of the rint.” | “That is indeed a great misfortune,’”’ said Jack. ‘‘But [ am afraid, Biddy, that you wouldn’t be satisfied with one glass.”’ ‘“‘ Sure now, yer honour, and it’s two or three Id be afther liking better, though one is _ better. than none at all,” said*biddy, smacking her lips together. : | : ‘And you really can’t get one ?” “ Bejorah ! but times is so bad, the devil of a LL