, burst out
afresh, and finally the door was broken down.

Half a minute afterward the crowd was making a wavering dance about the
two men. "Look out, ducky!" the young fellow shouted to John. The warning
came too late--John went reeling backward from a blow.

"Now, my lads, who says next?" cried the drunken ruffian. But before the
words were out of his mouth there was a growl, a plunge, a snarl, and he
was full length on the street with the bloodhound's muzzle at his throat.

The crowd shrieked and began to fly. Only one person seemed to remain. It
was an elderly woman, with dry and straggling gray hair. She had come out
of the pawnshop and thrown herself on the dog in an effort to rescue the
man underneath, crying: "My son--oh, my son! It'll kill him! Tyke the
beast away!"

John Storm called the dog off, and the man got up unhurt, and nearly
sober. But the woman continued to moan over the ruffian and to assail
John and his dog with bitter insults. "We want no truck with parsons
'ere," she shouted.

"Stou thet, mother. It was my fault," said the sobered man, and then the
woman began to cry. At the next minute John Storm was going with mother
and son into the shut-up pawnshop, and the unhinged door was being
propped behind them.

The crowd was trailing off when he came out again half an hour afterward,
and the only commotion remaining was caused by a belated policeman
asking, "Wot's bin the matter 'ere?" and by the young fellow with the gin
bottle performing a step-dance on the pavement before the entrance to the
cellar. The old woman stood at her door wiping her eyes on her apron, and
her son was behind with a face that was now red from other causes than
drink and rage.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Pincher; I may see you again soon."

Hearing this, the young swaggerer stopped his step-dancing and cried:
"What cheer, myte? Was it a blowter and a cup of cawfy?"

"For shynie, Charlie!" cried the girl with a baby, and the young fellow
answered, "Shut yer 'ead, Aggie!"

The waiter was still at the corner of the court, and when John came up he
spoke again. "There must be sem amoosement knockin' women abart, but I
can't see it myself." Then in a simple way he began to talk about his
"missis," and what a good creature she was, and finally announced himself
"gyme" to help a parson "as stood up to that there drunken blowke for
sake of a woman."

"What's your name?" said John.

"Jupe," said the man, and then something stirred