Wepeha to justice, and the warmth of the fire was grateful. Tod’s soft brogue cut the smoke-reek.
“It is not wid elber-grease ye wud be after makin’ a mark annywhere. Guise, me bosthoon,” he remarked.
Lou grinned above the low-breathed accordeon.
“Truth is a good thing to have on tap,” he said. “But you need to draw it into the jug of tact. Ye’ll get kiboshed for———”
Here Guise knocked out his pipe on Tod’s head, and Blake came in from the bar to sort out disputants with an unsparing hand.
“Who’s looking for trouble?” he demanded, jerking Roddy out of the ruck with the decision of long practice. There was red pipe-ash inside Roddy’s collar; but his fear of authority was hotter.
“I never did—I didn’t mean to make a row———”
“’Tain’t necessary to unload excuses on the market till we tell you we’re asking for unadulterated lies,” said Blake. “You get away home, Roddy———”
“You let Roddy alone,” struck in Lou, “unless you want to chuck me too, Blake. Roddy’s my guest———”
“Which is why Randal ain’t bin down these ten nights,” explained Ike. “Why ain’t yer on night-shift, Roddy?”
