Alley Urchin Read Online Free Page B

eyes over his two rough-looking companions. One was tall, painfully thin and had an old jagged scar from eye to ear; the other was of medium height, stocky with a dark surly expression. Both had thick bushy beards, both wore flat wide-brimmed hats and chequered shirts, with dark serviceable trousers. ‘Swag men,’ thought Emma, as she met their arrogant stares unflinchingly.
    Foster Thomas twisted his mouth into a crooked smile. ‘Me and the blokes . . . we reckoned you and Nelly might be glad of a little company,’ he said with a low laugh, at the same time reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. As he leaned forward with the intention of encircling Emma’s tiny waist with his arm, the smell of stale booze on his breath was nauseating. His deep blue eyes were little more than slits as they bored down on her, betraying his lecherous intentions and instantly putting Emma on her guard. ‘You’re drunk!’ She spat the words out vehemently, at the same time twisting away from him with such speed and agility that she caused him to lose his balance. When the two bushmen thought it so amusing that they began sniggering and pointing to Foster Thomas as he struggled to remain upright, the smile slipped from his face and was replaced with a particularly determined and vicious expression. ‘You little bastard!’ he snarled, lurching forward to grasp at Emma’s swiftly departing figure.
    In her indignation and urgency to get away, Emma lost sight of Nelly. Pausing to look back, she was horrified to see that her hapless friend had made no move to follow her, but instead was shamelessly taking delight in having all three men dance attendance on her. Foster Thomas, in particular, was handling Nelly with a deal of intimacy, which was greatly intensified when he saw that Emma was hurriedly making her way back towards them.
    ‘What in God’s name are you thinking of?’ Emma demanded of Nelly, whom she thought seemed to be as intoxicated as the men when she began blushing and giggling at Foster Thomas’s over-amorous advances.
    ‘ This girlie knows how to be grateful for a man’s attentions,’ he sniggered, holding Nelly closer and winking knowingly at the other men, who appeared to be thoroughly enjoying themselves.
    ‘That’s right,’ rejoined the stocky fellow, sidling up to Emma and running his tongue round his dry lips. ‘Like a dog going for a chop,’ thought Emma as he stood, legs astride in front of her. ‘Now then me beauty . . . how about you showing me what you’re made of, eh?’ In a minute he would have had her fast in his grip, but in that same instant Emma had swung her arm out sideways and, before he realised her intention, had brought her fist across his ear with a resounding thud. As he staggered back, his hand clapped to his throbbing ear and a string of foul language issuing from his mouth, the second man ran forward to lock his two arms about Emma and swing her bodily into the air. ‘She’s got spirit, has this one!’ he laughed. ‘She’ll do fer me!’ No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Foster Thomas had landed his fist in it. ‘Take your filthy bloody paws off her!’ he yelled, as the fellow released Emma and, confronting his assailant with a furious expression, he invited in a low growl, ‘So! That’s the way, is it? . . . C’mon then, me bucko . . . let’s have it out!’
    In a minute the two of them were locked in combat, the one pounding his bunched fist time and time again into the other’s stomach, and the other with his fingertips digging into his opponent’s fleshy eyeballs with every intention of gouging but his very eyes. The third fellow, having miraculously recovered, was hopping up and down, screaming encouragement, first to one, then the other. Nelly did the same.
    Never one to miss an opportunity, Emma lost no time in grabbing hold of Nelly who, by the degree of resistance she put up, would much have preferred to stay and watch the fight than run away