FullReads

Josephus had, on sight, fallen out of love with the old-clothes dealer; he had growled when the man seized Terry; now, with enthusiasm, he grabbed the man’s trousers leg and began to tear. The man leaped back, barricaded himself behind a rack of old coats. Terry snatched up the bundles of clothes, dropped a pound note on the counter, shooed Max and Josephus outside.

“He’ll have us arrested!” quaked Max.

“Huh! He’ll never call the police, now he’s got his quid. The less he sees of the police, the better he’ll like it. I ain’t afraid!” said Terry boldly—while inside he was fully as calm as a cat chased up a tree by a pack of dogs.

They reached the alley mouth and the waiting Ginger, and Ginger drove them through the alley, a courtyard, another alley, and a blind area way behind a shop. They undressed madly, while Terry told of their misadventure.

“I’ll ‘ave my uncle ‘Ennery scrag ’im!” raged Ginger, “‘Eats men alive, Uncle ‘Ennery does. ”

Dressed, they were as scandalously soiled a trio as was to be found in greater London. Ginger insisted on tearing the caps and stockings of his two heroes; on rubbing dirt over their faces.

He himself was capless. But now, free of his skin-tight uniform, he chucked his fears away with it, and cried, “Righto, me brave lads! ’Tis off to the boundin’ blue—as Uncle ‘Ennery says. What about a bit of breakfast?”

To avoid the old-clothes man, after hiding their proper clothes in a garbage can, he led them through further alleys and courts to a restaurant which he guaranteed to be the best twopenny dive in London. Relieved of worried relatives who insisted on nice porridge with nice cream, Terry and Max joyfully smeared themselves with a breakfast of fried fish, apple tart, pink cakes, and jam.

Josephus had a voluptuous bone, and as for Ginger, he breakfasted on tea and fish. He was a pal, he said, of the assistant pastry cook at the Hotel Picardie, and he could have all the cakes he wanted, any time.

“You can eat all the cakes you want? Any time? And nobody stops you?” gasped H. R. M. Maximilian III.

“All you want?” marveled Terry.

“Ra-ther!” said Ginger superciliously.

Mr. Ginger Bundock knew that Max was a real king, that Terry was a famous actor, but he couldn’t believe it. They looked like two dirty small boys, and while they seemed to have read books, which had never been a habit in the Bundock family, they were so ignorant of his London that he couldn’t help feeling superior. And over the fish and pink cakes he was rather sniffy with them about reaching Bristol and the haunts of pirate ships.

“It’s west of London. Right away west,” he said authoritatively.

“How far?” asked Terry.

“How far? Oh, a long way. Seventy-five miles. Or per’aps three ‘undred. ”

“Pooh! That’s not far!” Terry was trying to regain the scornfulness of leadership. “My dad and I drove from Los Angeles to San Francisco in one day, and that’s five hundred miles!”

“Oh, I dare say! You Americans! An Englishman wouldn’t care to go barging about like that, you know!”

“I think,” hinted Max, “we ought to be taking a train at once, before they find we’re missing. ”

“A train?” grumbled Ginger. “Oh, I say now, don’t be balmy, Max—I mean, Your Majesty. ”

“Oh, I like being called Max. Please call me Max, Ginger. We’re all fellow pirates now, you know. ”

“Aw, Max sounds Dutch,” reflected Terry. “Let’s call him ‘Mix. ’”

“Mix?” queried Maximilian.

“You bet! That’s the name of one of the swellest cow-punchers in the movie game, ain’t it, Ginger?”

“Oh, that would be nice. ‘Mix. ’ And then of course as a pirate I suppose I wouldhave to have a nom de guerre. ”

“A wot?” demanded Ginger.

“He’s swallowed a dictionary!” protested Terry.

“Oh, I am sorry!” wailed Maximilian. He wasn’t sure what he had done to offend these superior representatives of the Anglo–Saxon race, but he was ready to apologize for anything or for nothing to keep their comradeship.

“‘T’sall right, Mixie,” said Terry generously; then abruptly, to Ginger, “Anyway, why shouldn’t we take a train?”

Ginger recognized his master’s voice. More humbly: “W’re d’you suppose they’d look for us first? On trains, of course! We must walk. Besides! Did you ever ‘ear of pirates taking trains?”