The host swaggered toward the door with a great deal of shoulder
movement, carelessly feinting a slap at Verman in passing, and creating
by various means the atmosphere of a man who has contemptuously amused
himself with underlings while awaiting an equal.
"Hello, 'bo!" Penrod said in the deepest voice possible to him.
"Who you callin' 'bo?" was the ungracious response, accompanied by
immediate action of a similar nature. Rupe held Penrod's head in the
crook of an elbow and massaged his temples with a hard-pressing knuckle.
"I was only in fun, Rupie," pleaded the sufferer, and then, being set
free, "Come here, Sam," he said.
"What for?"
Penrod laughed pityingly. "Pshaw, I ain't goin' to hurt you. Come on."
Sam, maintaining his position near the other door, Penrod went to him
and caught him round the neck.
"Watch me, Rupie!" Penrod called, and performed upon Sam the knuckle
operation which he had himself just undergone, Sam submitting
mechanically, his eyes fixed with increasing uneasiness upon Rupe
Collins. Sam had a premonition that something even more painful than
Penrod's knuckle was going to be inflicted upon him.
"THAT don' hurt," said Penrod, pushing him away.
"Yes, it does, too!" Sam rubbed his temple.
"Puh! It didn't hurt me, did it, Rupie? Come on in, Rupe: show this baby
where he's got a wart on his finger."
"You showed me that trick," Sam objected. "You already did that to
me. You tried it twice this afternoon and I don't know how many times
before, only you weren't strong enough after the first time.
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