It could be felt that something awful was about to happen, and Penrod,
as he rose from the floor, suffered an unexpected twinge of apprehension
and remorse: he hoped that Rupe wouldn't REALLY hurt Herman. A sudden
dislike of Rupe and Rupe's ways rose within him, as he looked at the big
boy overwhelming the little darky with that ferocious scowl. Penrod,
all at once, felt sorry about something indefinable; and, with equal
vagueness, he felt foolish. "Come on, Rupe," he suggested, feebly, "let
Herman go, and let's us make our billies out of the rake handle."
The rake handle, however, was not available, if Rupe had inclined to
favour the suggestion. Verman had discarded his lath for the rake, which
he was at this moment lifting in the air.
"You ole black nigger," the fat-faced boy said venomously to Herman,
"I'm agoin' to----"
But he had allowed his nose to remain too long near Herman's.
Penrod's familiar nose had been as close with only a ticklish spinal
effect upon the not very remote descendant of Congo man-eaters. The
result produced by the glare of Rupe's unfamiliar eyes, and by
the dreadfully suggestive proximity of Rupe's unfamiliar nose, was
altogether different. Herman's and Verman's Bangala great-grandfathers
never considered people of their own jungle neighbourhood proper
material for a meal, but they looked upon strangers especially truculent
strangers--as distinctly edible.
Penrod and Sam heard Rupe suddenly squawk and bellow; saw him writhe and
twist and fling out his arms like flails, though without removing his
face from its juxtaposition; indeed, for a moment, the two heads seemed
even closer.
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