pgw.psmith,journalist-第19部分

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e　generalship　of　the　expedition　had　been　in　the　hands　of　the　fallen　warrior。　His　removal　from　the　sphere　of　active　influence　had　left　the　party　without　a　head。　And；　to　add　to　their　disfiture；　they　could　not　account　for　the　Kid。　Psmith　they　knew；　and　Billy　Windsor　they　knew；　but　who　was　this　stranger　with　the　square　shoulders　and　the　upper…cut　that　landed　like　a　cannon…ball？　Something　approaching　a　panic　prevailed　among　the　gang。
　It　was　not　lessened　by　the　behaviour　of　the　intended　victims。　Billy　Windsor；　armed　with　the　big　stick　which　he　had　bought　after　the　visit　of　Mr。　Parker；　was　the　first　to　join　issue。　He　had　been　a　few　paces　behind　the　others　during　the　black…jack　incident；　but；　dark　as　it　was；　he　had　seen　enough　to　show　him　that　the　occasion　was；　as　Psmith　would　have　said；　one　for　the　Shrewd　Blow　rather　than　the　Prolonged　Parley。　With　a　whoop　of　the　purest　Wyoming　brand；　he　sprang　forward　into　the　confused　mass　of　the　enemy。　A　moment　later　Psmith　and　the　Kid　followed；　and　there　raged　over　the　body　of　the　fallen　leader　a　battle　of　Homeric　type。
　It　was　not　a　long　affair。　The　rules　and　conditions　governing　the　encounter　offended　the　delicate　sensibilities　of　the　gang。　Like　artists　who　feel　themselves　trammelled　by　distasteful　conventions；　they　were　damped　and　could　not　do　themselves　justice。　Their　forte　was　long…range　fighting　with　pistols。　With　that　they　felt　en　rapport。　But　this　vulgar　brawling　in　the　darkness　with　muscular　opponents　who　hit　hard　and　often　with　sticks　and　hands　was　distasteful　to　them。　They　could　not　develop　any　enthusiasm　for　it。　They　carried　pistols；　but　it　was　too　dark　and　the　batants　were　too　entangled　to　allow　them　to　use　these。　Besides；　this　was　not　the　dear；　homely　old　Bowery；　where　a　gentleman　may　fire　a　pistol　without　exciting　vulgar　ment。　It　was　up…town；　where　curious　crowds　might　collect　at　the　first　shot。
　There　was　but　one　thing　to　be　done。　Reluctant　as　they　might　be　to　abandon　their　fallen　leader；　they　must　tear　themselves　away。　Already　they　were　suffering　grievously　from　the　stick；　the　black…jack；　and　the　lightning　blows　of　the　Kid。　For　a　moment　they　hung；　wavering；　then　stampeded　in　half　a　dozen　different　directions；　melting　into　the　night　whence　they　had　e。
　Billy；　full　of　zeal；　pursued　one　fugitive　some　fifty　yards　down　the　street；　but　his　quarry；　exhibiting　a　rare　turn　of　speed；　easily　outstripped　him。
　He　came　back；　panting；　to　find　Psmith　and　the　Kid　examining　the　fallen　leader　of　the　departed　ones　with　the　aid　of　a　match；　which　went　out　just　as　Billy　arrived。
　〃It　is　our　friend　of　the　earlier　part　of　the　evening；　rade　Windsor；〃　said　Psmith。　〃The　merchant　with　whom　we　hob…nobbed　on　our　way　to　the　Highfield。　In　a　moment　of　imprudence　I　mentioned　Cosy　Moments。　I　fancy　that　this　was　his　first　intimation　that　we　were　in　the　offing。　His　visit　to　the　Highfield　was　paid；　I　think；　purely　from　sport…loving　motives。　He　was　not　on　our　trail。　He　came　merely　to　see　if　rade　Brady　was　proficient　with　his　hands。　Subsequent　events　must　have　justified　our　fighting　editor　in　his　eyes。　It　seems　to　be　a　moot　point　whether　he　will　ever　recover　consciousness。〃
　〃Mighty　good　thing　if　he　doesn't；〃　said　Billy　uncharitably。
　〃From　one　point　of　view；　rade　Windsor；　yes。　Such　an　event　would　undoubtedly　be　an　excellent　thing　for　the　public　good。　But　from　our　point　of　view；　it　would　be　as　well　if　he　were　to　sit　up　and　take　notice。　We　could　ascertain　from　him　who　he　is　and　which　particular　collection　of　horny…handeds　he　represents。　Light　another　match；　rade　Brady。〃
　The　Kid　did　so。　The　head　of　it　fell　off　and　dropped　upon　the　up…turned　face。　The　hooligan　stirred；　shook　himself；　sat　up；　and　began　to　mutter　something　in　a　foggy　voice。
　〃He's　still　woozy；〃　said　the　Kid。
　〃Stillwhat　exactly；　rade　Brady？〃
　〃In　the　air；〃　explained　the　Kid。　〃Bats　in　the　belfry。　Dizzy。　See　what　I　mean？　It's　often　like　that　when　a　feller　puts　one　in　with　a　bit　of　weight　behind　it　just　where　that　one　landed。　Gum！　I　remember　when　I　fought　Martin　Kelly；　I　was　only　starting　to　learn　the　game　then。　Martin　and　me　was　mixing　it　good　and　hard　all　over　the　ring；　when　suddenly　he　puts　over　a　stiff　one　right　on　the　point。　What　do　you　think　I　done？　Fall　down　and　take　the　count？　Not　on　your　life。　I　just　turns　round　and　walks　straight　out　of　the　ring　to　my　dressing…room。　Willie　Harvey；　who　was　seconding　me；　es　tearing　in　after　me；　and　finds　me　getting　into　my　clothes。　'What's　doing；　Kid？'　he　asks。　'I'm　going　fishin'；　Willie；'　I　says。　'It's　a　lovely　day。'　'You've　lost　the　fight；'　he　says。　'Fight？'　says　I。　'What　fight？'　See　what　I　mean？　I　hadn't　a　notion　of　what　had　happened。　It　was　a　half　an　hour　and　more　before　I　could　remember　a　thing。〃
　During　this　reminiscence；　the　man　on　the　ground　had　contrived　to　clear　his　mind　of　the　mistiness　induced　by　the　Kid's　upper…cut。　The　first　sign　he　showed　of　returning　intelligence　was　a　sudden　dash　for　safety　up　the　road。　But　he　had　not　gone　five　yards　when　he　sat　down　limply。
　The　Kid　was　inspired　to　further　reminiscence。　〃Guess　he's　feeling　pretty　poor；〃　he　said。　〃It's　no　good　him　trying　to　run　for　a　while　after　he's　put　his　chin　in　the　way　of　a　real　live　one。　I　remember　when　Joe　Peterson　put　me　out；　way　back　when　I　was　new　to　the　gameit　was　the　same　year　I　fought　Martin　Kelly。　He　had　an　awful　punch；　had　old　Joe；　and　he　put　me　down　and　out　in　the　eighth　round。　After　the　fight　they　found　me　on　the　fire…escape　outside　my　dressing…room。　'e　in；　Kid；'　says　they。　'It's　all　right；　chaps；'　I　says；　'I'm　dying。'　Like　that。　'It's　all　right；　chaps；　I'm　dying。'　Same　with　this　guy。　See　what　I　mean？〃
　They　formed　a　group　about　the　fallen　black…jack　expert。
　〃Pardon　us；〃　said　Psmith　courteously；　〃for　breaking　in　upon　your　reverie；　but；　if　you　could　spare　us　a　moment　of　your　valuable　time；　there　are　one　or　two　things　which　we　should　like　to　know。〃
　〃Sure　thing；〃　agreed　the　Kid。
　〃In　the　first　place；〃　continued　Psmith；　〃would　it　be　betraying　professional　secrets　if　you　told　us　which　particular　bevy　of　energetic　sandbaggers　it　is　to　which　you　are　attached？〃
　〃Gent；〃　explained　the　Kid；　〃wants　to　know　what's　your　gang。〃
　The　man　on　the　ground　muttered　something　that　to　Psmith　and　Billy　was　unintelligible。
　〃It　would　be　a　charity；〃　said　the　former；　〃if　some　philanthropist　would　give　this　blighter　elocution　lessons。　Can　you　interpret；　rade　Brady？〃
　〃Says　it's　the　Three　Points；〃　said　the　Kid。
　〃The　Three　Points？　Let　me　see；　is　that　Dude　Dawson；　rade　Windsor；　or　the　other　gentleman？〃
　〃It's　Spider　Reilly。　Dude　Dawson　runs　the　Table　Hill　crowd。〃
　〃Perhaps　this　is　Spider　Reilly？〃
　〃Nope；〃　said　the　Kid。　〃I　know　the　Spider。　This　ain't　him。　This　is　some　other　mutt。〃
　〃Which　other　mutt　in　particular？〃　asked　Psmith。　〃Try　and　find　out；　rade　Brady。　You　seem　to　be　able　to　understand　what　he　says。　To　me；　personally；　his　remarks　sound　like　the　output　of　a　gramophone　with　a　hot　potato　in　its　mouth。〃
　〃Says　he's　Jack　Repetto；〃　announced　the　interpreter。
　There　was　another　interruption　at　this　moment。　The　bashful　Mr。　Repetto；　plainly　a　man　who　was　not　happy　in　the　society　of　strangers；　made　another　attempt　to　withdraw。　Reaching　out　a　pair　of　lean　hands；　he　pulled　the　Kid's　legs　from　under　him　with　a　swift　jerk；　and；　wriggling　to　his　feet；　started　off　again　down　the　road。　Once　more；　however；　desire　outran　performance。　He　got　as　far　as　the　nearest　street…lamp；　but　no　farther。　The　giddiness　seemed　to　overe　him　again；　for　he　grasped　the　lamp…post；　and；　sliding　slowly　to　the　ground；　sat　there　motionless。
　The　Kid；　whose　fall　had　jolted　and　bruised　him；　was　inclined　to　be　wrathful　and　vindictive。　He　was　the　first　of　the　three　to　reach　the　elusive　Mr。　Repetto；　and　if　that　worthy　had　happened　to　be　standing　instead　of　sitting　it　might　have　gone　hard　with　him。　But　the　Kid　was　not　the　man　to　attack　a　fallen　foe。　He　contented　himself　with　brushing　the　dust　off　his　person　and　addressing　a　richly　abusive　flow　of　remarks　to　Mr。　Repetto。
　Under　the　rays　of　the　lamp　it　was　possible　to　discern　more　closely　the　features　of　the　black…jack　exponent。　There　was　a　subtle　but　noticeable　resemblance　to　those　of　Mr。　Bat　Jarvis。　Apparently　the　latter's　oiled　forelock；　worn　low　over　the　forehead；　was　more　a　concession　to　the　gener