hen, and the
landlord jumped over the bar and stood in the doorway, whistling for the
police. Bill struck out right and left, and the men in the bar went down
like skittles, Peter among them. Then they got outside, and Bill, arter
giving the landlord a thump in the back wot nearly made him swallow the
whistle, jumped into a cab and pulled Peter Russet in arter 'im.

[Illustration: "Bill jumped into a cab and pulled Peter Russet in arter
'im."]

"I'll talk to you by-and-by," he ses, as the cab drove off at a gallop;
"there ain't room in this cab. You wait, my lad, that's all. You just
wait till we get out, and I'll knock you silly."

"Wot for, Bill?" ses Peter, staring.

"Don't you talk to me," roars Bill. "If I choose to knock you about
that's my business, ain't it? Besides, you know very well."

He wouldn't let Peter say another word, but coming to a quiet place near
the docks he stopped the cab and pulling 'im out gave 'im such a dressing
down that Peter thought 'is last hour 'ad arrived. He let 'im go at
last, and after first making him pay the cab-man took 'im along till they
came to a public-'ouse and made 'im pay for drinks.

They stayed there till nearly eleven o'clock, and then Bill set off home
'olding the unfortunit Peter by the scruff o' the neck, and wondering out
loud whether 'e ought to pay 'im a bit more or not. Afore 'e could make
up 'is mind, however, he turned sleepy, and, throwing 'imself down on the
bed which was meant for the two of 'em, fell into a peaceful sleep.

Sam and Ginger Dick came in a little while arterward, both badly marked
where Bill 'ad hit them, and sat talking to Peter in whispers as to wot
was to be done. Ginger, who 'ad plenty of pluck, was for them all to set
on to 'im, but Sam wouldn't 'ear of it, and as for Peter he was so sore
he could 'ardly move.

They all turned in to the other bed at last, 'arf afraid to move for fear
of disturbing Bill, and when they woke up in the morning and see 'im
sitting up in 'is bed they lay as still as mice.

"Why, Ginger, old chap," ses Bill, with a 'earty smile, "wot are you all
three in one bed for?"

"We was a bit cold," ses Ginger.

"Cold?" ses Bill. "Wot, this weather? We 'ad a bit of a spree last
night, old man, didn't we? My throat's as dry as a cinder."

"It ain't my idea of a spree," ses Ginger, sitting up and looking at 'im.

"Good 'eavens, Ginger!" ses Bill, starting back, "wotever 'ave you been
a-doing to