CHAPTER XXI
THE BATTLE OF PLEASANT STREET
The new arrival was a young man with a shock of red hair, aningrowing Roman nose, and a mouth from which force or the passageof time had removed three front teeth. He held on to the edges ofthe trap with his hands, and stared in a glassy manner intoPsmith's face, which was within a foot of his own.
There was a momentary pause, broken by an oath from Mr. Gooch, whowas still undergoing treatment in the background.
"Aha!" said Psmith genially. "Historic picture. 'Doctor Cookdiscovers the North Pole.'"
The red-headed young man blinked. The strong light of the open airwas trying to his eyes.
"Youse had better come down," he observed coldly. "We've gotyouse."
"And," continued Psmith, unmoved, "is instantly handed a gum-dropby his faithful Esquimaux."
As he spoke, he brought the stick down on the knuckles whichdisfigured the edges of the trap. The intruder uttered a howl anddropped out of sight. In the room below there were whisperings andmutterings, growing gradually louder till something resemblingcoherent conversation came to Psmith's ears, as he knelt by thetrap making meditative billiard-shots with the stick at a smallpebble.
"Aw g'wan! Don't be a quitter!"
"Who's a quitter?"
"Youse is a quitter. Get on top de roof. He can't hoit youse."
"De guy's gotten a big stick." Psmith nodded appreciatively. "Iand Roosevelt," he murmured.
A somewhat baffled silence on the part of the attacking force wasfollowed by further conversation.
"Gum! some guy's got to go up." Murmur of assent from the audience.A voice, in inspired tones: "Let Sam do it!"
This suggestion made a hit. There was no doubt about that. It was asuccess from the start. Quite a little chorus of voices expressedsincere approval of the very happy solution to what had seemed aninsoluble problem. Psmith, listening from above, failed to detectin the choir of glad voices one that might belong to Sam himself.Probably gratification had rendered the chosen one dumb.
"Yes, let Sam do it!" cried the unseen chorus. The first speaker,unnecessarily, perhaps--for the motion had been carried almostunanimously--but possibly with the idea of convincing the onemember of the party in whose bosom doubts might conceivably beharboured, went on to adduce reasons.
"Sam bein' a coon," he argued, "ain't goin' to git hoit by nostick. Youse can't hoit a coon by soakin' him on de coco, can you,Sam?"
Psmith waited with some interest for the reply, but it did notcome. Possibly Sam did not wish to generalise on insufficientexperience.
"_Solvitur ambulando_," said Psmith softly, turning the stick roundin his fingers. "Comrade Windsor!"
"Hullo?"
"Is it possible to hurt a coloured gentleman by hitting him on thehead with a stick?"
"If you hit him hard enough."
"I knew there was some way out of the difficulty," said Psmith withsatisfaction. "How are you getting on up at your end of the table,Comrade Windsor?"
"Fine."
"Any result yet?"
"Not at present."
"Don't give up."
"Not me."
"The right spirit, Comrade Win--"
A report like a cannon in the room below interrupted him. It wasmerely a revolver shot, but in the confined space it was deafening.The bullet sang up into the sky.
"Never hit me!" said Psmith with dignified triumph.
The noise was succeeded by a shuffling of feet. Psmith grasped hisstick more firmly. This was evidently the real attack. The revolvershot had been a mere demonstration of artillery to cover theinfantry's advance.
Sure enough, the next moment a woolly head popped through theopening, and a pair of rolling eyes gleamed up at the old Etonian.
"Why, Sam!" said Psmith cordially, "this is well met! I remember_you_. Yes, indeed, I do. Wasn't you the feller with the openumbereller that I met one rainy morning on the Av-en-ue? What, areyou coming up? Sam, I hate to do it, but--"
A yell rang out.
"What was that?" asked Billy Windsor over his shoulder.
"Your statement, Comrade Windsor, has been tested and provedcorrect."
By this time the affair had begun to draw a "gate." The noise ofthe revolver had proved a fine advertisement. The roof of the housenext door began to fill up. Only a few of the occupants could get aclear view of the proceedings, for a large chimney-stackintervened. There was considerable speculation as to what waspassing between Billy Windsor and Mr. Gooch. Psmith's share in theentertainment was more obvious. The early comers had seen hisinterview with Sam, and were relating it with gusto to theirfriends. Their attitude towards Psmith was that of a group of menwatching a terrier at a rat-hole. They looked to him to provideentertainment for them, but they realised that the first move mustbe with the attackers. They were fair-minded men, and they did notexpect Psmith to make any aggressive move.
Their indignation, when the proceedings began to grow slow, wasdirected entirely at the dilatory Three Pointers. With an aggrievedair, akin to that of a crowd at a cricket match when batsmen areplaying for a draw, they began to "barrack." They hooted the ThreePointers. They begged them to go home and tuck themselves up inbed. The men on the roof were mostly Irishmen, and it offended themto see what should have been a spirited fight so grossly bungled.
"G'wan away home, ye quitters!" roared one.
"Call yersilves the Three Points, do ye? An' would ye know what_I_ call ye? The Young Ladies' Seminary!" bellowed another withwithering scorn.
A third member of the audience alluded to them as "stiffs."
"I fear, Comrade Windsor," said Psmith, "that our blithe friendsbelow are beginning to grow a little unpopular with themany-headed. They must be up and doing if they wish to retain theesteem of Pleasant Street. Aha!"
Another and a longer explosion from below, and more bullets wastedthemselves on air. Psmith sighed.
"They make me tired," he said. "This is no time for a _feu de joie_.Action! That is the cry. Action! Get busy, you blighters!"
The Irish neighbours expressed the same sentiment in different andmore forcible words. There was no doubt about it--as warriors, theThree Pointers had failed to give satisfaction.
A voice from the room called up to Psmith.
"Say!"
"You have our ear," said Psmith.
"What's that?"
"I said you had our ear."
"Are youse stiffs comin' down off out of dat roof?"
"Would you mind repeating that remark?"
"Are youse guys goin' to quit off out of dat roof?"
"Your grammar is perfectly beastly," said Psmith severely.
"Hey!"
"Well?"
"Are youse guys--?"
"No, my lad," said Psmith, "since you ask, we are not. And why?Because the air up here is refreshing, the view pleasant, and weare expecting at any moment an important communication from ComradeGooch."
"We're goin' to wait here till youse come down."
"If you wish it," said Psmith courteously, "by all means do. Who amI that I should dictate your movements? The most I aspire to is tocheck them when they take an upward direction."
There was silence below. The time began to pass slowly. TheIrishmen on the other roof, now definitely abandoning hope offurther entertainment, proceeded with hoots of scorn to climb downone by one into the recesses of their own house.
Suddenly from the street far below there came a fusillade of shotsand a babel of shouts and counter-shouts. The roof of the housenext door, which had been emptying itself slowly and reluctantly,filled again with a magical swiftness, and the low wall facing intothe street became black with the backs of those craning over.
"What's that?" inquired Billy.
"I rather fancy," said Psmith, "that our allies of the Table Hillcontingent must have arrived. I sent Comrade Maloney to explainmatters to Dude Dawson, and it seems as if that golden-heartedsportsman had responded. There appear to be great doings in thestreet."
/> In the room below confusion had arisen. A scout, clatteringupstairs, had brought the news of the Table Hillites' advent, andthere was doubt as to the proper course to pursue. Certain voicesurged going down to help the main body. Others pointed out thatthat would mean abandoning the siege of the roof. The scout who hadbrought the news was eloquent in favour of the first course.
"Gum!" he cried, "don't I keep tellin' youse dat de Table Hills ishere? Sure, dere's a whole bunch of dem, and unless youse come ondown dey'll bite de hull head off of us lot. Leave those stiffs onde roof. Let Sam wait here with his canister, and den dey can't getdown, 'cos Sam'll pump dem full of lead while dey're beatin' itt'roo de trap-door. Sure."
Psmith nodded reflectively.
"There is certainly something in what the bright boy says," hemurmured. "It seems to me the grand rescue scene in the third acthas sprung a leak. This will want thinking over."
In the street the disturbance had now become terrific. Both sideswere hard at it, and the Irishmen on the roof, rewarded at last fortheir long vigil, were yelling encouragement promiscuously andwhooping with the unfettered ecstasy of men who are getting thetreat of their lives without having paid a penny for it.
The behaviour of the New York policeman in affairs of this kind isbased on principles of the soundest practical wisdom. Theunthinking man would rush in and attempt to crush the combat in itsearliest and fiercest stages. The New York policeman, knowing theimportance of his own safety, and the insignificance of thegangsman's, permits the opposing forces to hammer each other into acertain distaste for battle, and then, when both sides have begunto have enough of it, rushes in himself and clubs everything insight. It is an admirable process in its results, but it is surerather than swift.
Proceedings in the affair below had not yet reached the policeinterference stage. The noise, what with the shots and yells fromthe street and the ear-piercing approval of the roof-audience, wasjust working up to a climax.
Psmith rose. He was tired of kneeling by the trap, and there was nolikelihood of Sam making another attempt to climb through. Hewalked towards Billy.
As he did so, Billy got up and turned to him. His eyes weregleaming with excitement. His whole attitude was triumphant. In hishand he waved a strip of paper.
"I've got it," he cried.
"Excellent, Comrade Windsor," said Psmith. "Surely we must winthrough now. All we have to do is to get off this roof, and fatecannot touch us. Are two mammoth minds such as ours unequal to sucha feat? It can hardly be. Let us ponder."
"Why not go down through the trap? They've all gone to the street."
Psmith shook his head.
"All," he replied, "save Sam. Sam was the subject of my latesuccessful experiment, when I proved that coloured gentlemen'sheads could be hurt with a stick. He is now waiting below, armedwith a pistol, ready--even anxious--to pick us off as we climbthrough the trap. How would it be to drop Comrade Gooch throughfirst, and so draw his fire? Comrade Gooch, I am sure, would bedelighted to do a little thing like that for old friends of ourstanding or--but what's that!"
"What's the matter?"
"Is that a ladder that I see before me, its handle to my hand? Itis! Comrade Windsor, we win through. _Cosy Moments_' editorial staffmay be tree'd, but it cannot be put out of business. ComradeWindsor, take the other end of that ladder and follow me."
The ladder was lying against the farther wall. It was long, morethan long enough for the purpose for which it was needed. Psmithand Billy rested it on the coping, and pushed it till the other endreached across the gulf to the roof of the house next door, Mr.Gooch eyeing them in silence the while.
Psmith turned to him.
"Comrade Gooch," he said, "do nothing to apprise our friend Sam ofthese proceedings. I speak in your best interests. Sam is in nomood to make nice distinctions between friend and foe. If youbring him up here, he will probably mistake you for a member of thestaff of _Cosy Moments_, and loose off in your direction withoutwaiting for explanations. I think you had better come with us. Iwill go first, Comrade Windsor, so that if the ladder breaks, thepaper will lose merely a sub-editor, not an editor."
He went down on all-fours, and in this attitude wormed his wayacross to the opposite roof, whose occupants, engrossed in thefight in the street, in which the police had now joined, had theirbacks turned and did not observe him. Mr. Gooch, pallid andobviously ill-attuned to such feats, followed him; and finallyBilly Windsor reached the other side.
"Neat," said Psmith complacently. "Uncommonly neat. Comrade Goochreminded me of the untamed chamois of the Alps, leaping from cragto crag."
In the street there was now comparative silence. The police, withtheir clubs, had knocked the last remnant of fight out of thecombatants. Shooting had definitely ceased.
"I think," said Psmith, "that we might now descend. If you have noother engagements, Comrade Windsor, I will take you to theKnickerbocker, and buy you a square meal. I would ask for thepleasure of your company also, Comrade Gooch, were it not thatmatters of private moment, relating to the policy of the paper,must be discussed at the table. Some other day, perhaps. We areinfinitely obliged to you for your sympathetic co-operation in thislittle matter. And now good-bye. Comrade Windsor, let us debouch."