Jonah | Page 5

yer neck!" shouted Chook, with sudden venom.
The red-headed girl stood silent, searching her mind for a stinging
retort.
"Yer'd catch yer death o' cold if yer washed yer own," she cried; and
the two passed out of sight, tittering. Chook turned to his mates.
"She kin give it lip, can't she?" said he, in admiration.
A moment later the leader of the Push crossed the street, and took his
place in silence under the veranda. A first glance surprised the eye, for
he was a hunchback, with the uncanny look of the deformed--the head,
large and powerful, wedged between the shoulders as if a giant's hand
had pressed it down, the hump projecting behind, monstrous and
inhuman. His face held you with a pair of restless grey eyes, the colour
and temper of steel, deep with malicious intelligence. His nose was
large and thin, curved like the beak of an eagle. Chook, whose
acquaintance he had made years ago when selling newspapers, was his
mate. Both carried nicknames, corrupted from Jones and Fowles, with

the rude wit of the streets.
"Ada's lookin' fer yous, Jonah," said Chook.
"Yer don't say so?" replied the hunchback, raising his leg to strike a
match. "Was Pinkey with 'er?" he added.
"D'ye mean a little moll wi' ginger hair?" asked Chook.
Jonah nodded.
"My oath, she was! Gi' me a knockout in one act," said Chook; and the
others laughed.
"Ginger fer pluck!" cried someone.
And they began to argue whether you could tell a woman's character
from the colour of her hair; whether red-haired women were more
deceitful than others.
Suddenly, up the road, appeared a detachment of the Salvation Army,
stepping in time to the muffled beat of a drum. The procession halted at
the street corner, stepped out of the way of traffic, and formed a circle.
The Push moved to the kerbstone, and, with a derisive grin, awaited the
performance.
The wavering flame of the kerosene torches, topped with thick smoke,
shone yellow against the whiter light of the gas-jets in the shops. The
men, in red jerseys and flat caps, held the poles of the torches in rest.
When a gust of air blew the thick black smoke into their eyes, they
patiently turned their heads. The sisters, conscious of the public gaze,
stood with downcast eyes, their faces framed in grotesque
poke-bonnets.
The Captain, a man of fifty, with the knotty, misshapen hands of a
workman, stepped into the centre of the ring, took off his cap, and
began to speak.
"Oh friends, we 'ave met 'ere again tonight to inquire after the safety of

yer everlastin' souls. Yer pass by, thinkin' only of yer idle pleasures,
w'en at any moment yer might be called to judgment by 'Im Who made
us all equal in 'Is eyes. Yer pass by without 'earin' the sweet voice of
Jesus callin' on yer to be saved this very minit. For 'E is callin' yer to
come an' be saved an' find salvation, as 'E called me many years ago. I
was then like yerselves, full of wickedness, an gloryin' in sin. But I
'eard the voice of 'Im Who died on the Cross, an' saw I was rushin'
'eadlong to 'ell. An' 'Is blood washed all my sins away, an' made me
whiter than snow. Whiter than snow, friends--whiter than snow! An'
'E'll do the same fer you if yer will only come an' be saved. Oh, can't
yer 'ear the voice of Jesus callin' to yer to come an' live with 'Im in 'Is
blessed mansions in the sky? Oh, come tonight an' find salvation!"
His arms were outstretched in a passionate gesture of appeal, his rough
voice vibrated with emotion, the common face flamed with the ecstasy
of the fanatic. When he stopped for breath or wiped the sweat from his
face, the Army spurred him on with cries of "Hallelujah! Amen!" as
one pokes a dying fire.
The Lieutenant, who was the comedian of the company, met with a grin
of approval as he faced the ring of torches like an actor facing the
footlights, posing before the crowd that had gathered, flashing his
vulgar conceit in the public eye. And he praised God in a song and
dance, fitting his words to the latest craze of the music-hall:
"Oh! won't you come and join us? Jesus leads the throng,"
snapping his fingers, grimacing, cutting capers that would have
delighted the gallery of a theatre.
"Encore!" yelled the Push as he danced himself to a standstill, hot and
breathless.
The rank and file came forward to testify. The men stammered in
confusion, terrified by the noise they made, shrinking from the crowd
as a timid bather shrinks from icy water, driven to this performance by
an unseen power. But