a stump and a box-rope from somewhere. We'll tie him up for a kill—à la Galton. 'Member when "Molly" Fairburn made us cock-fight with our shoes off, an' tied up our knees?'
'But that hurt like sin.'
' 'Course it did. What a clever chap you are, Beetle! Turkey 'll knock you all over the place. 'Member we've had a big row all round, an' I've trapped you into doin' this. Lend us your wipe.'
Beetle was trussed for cock-fighting; but, in addition to the transverse stump between elbow and knee, his knees were bound with a box-rope. In this posture, at a push from Stalky he rolled over sideways, covering himself with dust.
'Ruffle his hair, Turkey. Now you get down, too. "The bleatin' of the kid excites the tiger." You two are in such a sweatin' wax with me that you only curse. 'Member that. I'll tickle you up with a stump. You'll have to blub, Beetle.'
'Right O! I'll work up to it in half a shake,' said Beetle.
'Now begin—and remember the bleatin' o' the kid.'
'Shut up, you brutes! Let me up! You've nearly cut my knees off. Oh, you are beastly cads! Do shut up. 'Tisn't a joke!' Beetle's protest was, in tone, a work of art.
'Give it to him, Turkey! Kick him! Roll him over! Kill him! Don't funk, Beetle, you brute. Kick him again, Turkey.'
'He's not blubbin' really. Roll up, Beetle, or I'll kick you into the fender,' roared M'Turk.
