Jope, leaping the orchestra and crashing, on his way,
through an abandoned violoncello, landed across the footlights and
clapped him on the shoulder.
"Never you mind, lad!" cried Mr. Jope cheerfully, taking the cutlass
from between his teeth and waving it. "You'll get better treatment
along o' we."
"What mean you? Unhand me--Off, I say, minion!"
"It'll blow over, lad; it'll blow over. You take my advice and come
quiet--Oh, but we _want_ you!--an' if you hear another word about
this evening's work I'll forfeit my mess."
"Hands off, ruffian! Help, I say, there--Help!"
"Shame! Shame!" cried a dozen voices. But nine-tenths of the
audience were already pressing around the doors to escape.
At a nod from Mr. Jope, two seamen ran and cut the cords supporting
the drop-scene.
"Heads, there! Heads!"
The great roller fell upon the stage with a resounding bang.
With the thud of it, a hand descended and smote upon the Major's
shoulder.
"Come along o' me. _You'll_ give no trouble, anyway."
"Eh?" said the Major. "My good man, I assure you that I have not the
slightest disposition to interfere. These scenes are regrettable, of
course. I have heard of them, but never actually assisted at one
before; still, I quite see the necessity of the realm demands it, and
the realm's necessity is--or should be--the supreme law with all of
us."
"And you can _swim_.
Pages:
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180