Part 20 (1/2)
Whereupon he turned on the Coffee-colored Angel and slathered him, drove him hither and thither with terrific blows, knocked him head over heels, caught him by the throat and beat him against a wall, rolled him on the ground and rubbed him in the dust, tore his clothes, blacked his eyes and left him beaten and supinely, pa.s.sively wallowing.
He walked out on his tiptoes, like a terrier, head erect, his chest out, fists still folded, tears in his eyes--tears of pride and relief.
He had fought a fight, he had received terrific blows and minded them not. He had thrashed the Coffee-colored Angel: he could thrash or take a thras.h.i.+ng from any one. He had his first thrill, the thrill of conscious rage, comparable only to first love and first sorrow. He had licked the Coffee-colored Angel--he was not a coward!
At this highly-auspicious moment the unsuspecting White Mountain Canary perceived the despised object of his chase and, raising a shout, triumphantly bore down upon him. With a rush he cleared the intervening s.p.a.ce and then, catching sight of the new d.i.n.k, stopped as though he had been jerked in by a rope.
A few moments later the group on the Green House steps were lazily working out a French translation, which Beekstein, the Secretary of the Department of Education, was reading to them, when suddenly, in the fields opposite, two figures appeared, zigzagging wildly.
”Here comes the d.i.n.k again,” said Stuffy Brown. ”They'll get him this time.”
”Who's after him?” said Tough McCarty. ”He's a disgrace to the House.”
”It's the White Mountain Canary,” said Susie Satterly.
”h.e.l.lo!” said Cheyenne.
”What?”
”I'll be darned--no--yes--dinged if it isn't the d.i.n.k chasing the Canary!”
As they sprang up, amazed, Stover dove at the fleeing tormentor, caught him, and the two went down in a heap, thras.h.i.+ng to and fro.
”Well, I'll be jig-swiggered!” said Cheyenne.
”I'll eat my pants!”
”The d.i.n.k!”
At this moment the awful wreck of the Coffee-colored Angel limped up.
A chorus broke out:
”The Coffee-colored Angel!”
”Shot to pieces!”
”Ma.s.sacred!”
”Kicked by a horse!”
”What hit you?”
”d.i.n.k,” said the Coffee-colored Angel, taking a tooth out of his muddy mouth. ”I caught him.”
Presently they saw Stover arise and loose the battered White Mountain Canary, who broke wildly for shelter.
”Well, anyhow,” said the Coffee-colored Angel, ”d.i.n.k's swallowed the Canary.”