Yoo'd never see 'er, lad," he went on bellowing.
Ugh-ugh. Yoo'd look over 'er, an* on to soome
fat, pink slut thot th' street ain't big enoof for. An*
thot's beecause yoo hov not seen so manny women
as Jock Crimson has seen. Lithe as a buddin'
willow, this un is; eyes like the shine o' herrin' —
cheeks to kiss— aye, an' lips— an' hair to run a
mon's fing'rs through. Aye, lad, a gurl to mate
Jock Crimson to — an* Jock Crimson wull mate to
'er, sure's ever he was born in County Corn'll."

And now he had me wondering in good truth.
I had lived in Old Harbor all my life: there was
not a twisting lane in all its length I had not
threaded a score of times; and yet it was certain
my eyes had never fallen upon this being of the
red man's boisterous panegyric. I remembered
there had been some little fighting in the back-
streets over a certain Mamie Sousa the summer
before, but she was large-bosomed and florid-
cheeked. Then there was Bert Adams's sister,
Flossie. And Little John's sister was pretty. She
was only fourteen, it is true, but tall for her years.
I decided that it must be Annie Miers. I wondered
whether I ought to say anything to Little John,
but he was already backing away into the shadow,
and I very anxious to be after him.
86



STORM

"IVe got to be goin'," I told the man.
But still he held me back. As I came to know
later, Jock Crimson loved a big man, just as he
loved a monstrous rage or a stupendous fight. He
was appraising my back muscles with his fingers
and grinning.
