A CHILD OF THE JAGO
trembled in corners and yards and wept at the sight of bleeding heads. As for old Beveridge, the affair so grossly excited him that he neglected business (he cadged and wrote begging screeves) and stayed in the Jago; where he strode wildly about the streets, lank and rusty, stabbing the air with a carving knife, and incoherently defying "all the lot" to come near him. Nobody did.
Dicky Perrott and Tommy Rann found a snug fastness in Jago Row. For there was a fence with a loose board, which, pushed aside, revealed a hole where-through a very small boy might squeeze; and within were stored many barrows and shallows, mostly broken, and of these one, tilted forward and bottom up, made a hut or den, screened about with fence and barrows. Here they hid while the Learys swept the Jago, and hence they issued from time to time to pound such youngsters of the ether side as might come in sight. The bits of
54
