Even now, as I stood bareheaded, my breath in
check, one of the fellows grasped this hand, wrenched open these
delicate fingers with brutal strength, and finding within them only a
wisp of crumpled paper, swore a hoarse oath of baffled cupidity that
changed to a howl as my uncle's cane rapped him smartly across
bull-neck.
"Detestable savage!" exclaimed my uncle, scowling down into the man's
startled face. "Learn reverence for the dead! Now pass me that paper!"
The man snarled a threat, whereupon my uncle rapped him again.
"The paper--do you hear--animal?"
The man rubbed his neck, muttered an oath, and gave the wisp of paper
to my uncle, who, without glancing at it, took off his hat and bowed
his head.
"Poor soul!" he sighed gently, his impassive face transfigured by an
extraordinary tenderness. "Poor frightened, weary soul--so young, so
very young, and now fled--whither? Poor--poor child--Stop! Keep your
beastly hands off her!" This to the bull-necked fellow, who flinched
and drew away, snarling.
"Lumme, me lord!" whined the second man, a small, mean person. "What's
ye game? She's ourn--we found 'er, Job an' me--seen 'er out in th'
race, us did, floatin' s' pretty, an' folleyed 'er, us did, 'til she
came ashore. She b'longs t' us, me lord, as Job'll swear--to diskiver
a corp' means money, an' corpses, 'specially sich pretty 'uns, don't
come often enough--"
"Pah!" cried my uncle. "There is a hurdle over yonder, fetch it--you!"
The bull-necked fellow rose, but, instead of complying, turned short
and sprang, an open knife in his hand; my uncle Jervas stepped lightly
aside, his long arm shot out, and the bull-necked man went down
heavily; he was in the act of rising when my uncle set his foot upon
the man's knife-hand, placidly crushed and crushed it until he roared,
until the gripping fingers relaxed their hold, whereupon my uncle
kicked the knife into the river.
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