“As far as I can see, th' Christians always had it on th' Paynims, always had 'em shaded, when it comes to a scrap. Th' Christian lads had th' punch; an' th' Paynims must have been wise to it; for no sooner would Richard, Philip an' their roly-boly boys hit th' dock, than th' Paynims would take it on th' run for th' hills. Their mullahs would try to rally 'em, be tellin' 'em that whoever got downed fightin' Christians, the prophet would punch his ticket through for paradise direct, an' no stop-overs. “'That's all right about the prophet!' they'd say, givin' th' mullahs th' laugh. An' then they'd beat it for th' next ridge.” “Them Paynims must have been a bunch of dead ones,” commented the Dropper. “Not bein' able to get on a match,” continued Slimmy, without heeding the Dropper, “th' Paynims declinin' their game, th' Christian hosts would rough house th' country generally, an' in a way of speakin' stand th' Holy Land on its head. Do what they would, however, they couldn't coax th' Paynims into th' ring wit' 'em; an' so after a while they decides that Palestine's th' bummest place they'd ever struck. Mebby, too, they'd begin havin' woid from home that their wives was gettin' a little gay, or their kids was goin' round marryin' th' kids of their enemies, an' that one way an' another their domestic affairs was on th' fritz. At this, Richard'd go loafin' over to Philip's tent, an' say: “'Philly, me boy, I don't know how this crusade strikes youse, but if I'm any judge of these great moral movements, it's on th' blink. An' so,' he'd go on, 'Philly, it's me for Merrie England be th' night boat.' “Wit' that, they'd break for home; an', when they got there, they'd mebby hand out a taste of th' strap to mamma an' th' babies, just to teach 'em not to go runnin' out of form th' next time father's far away.” “Youse don't bank much on crusades, Slimmy?” Ike the Blood said. The Blood had more than a passing interest in the movement, mention of which had started the discussion, being himself a part proprietor in one of those threatened Raines Law Hotels. “Blood,” observed Slimmy, oracularly, “them moral movements is like a hornet; they stings onct an' then they dies.” Alma's attention was drawn to Mollie Squint--so called because of an optical slant which gave her a vague though piquant look. Mollie Squint was motioning from the outskirts of the little group. Alma pointed to the Dropper. Should she bring him? Mollie Squint shook her head. Leaving the Dropper, Alma joined Mollie Squint. “It's Johnny,” gasped Mollie Squint. “He wants you; he's over be that bunch of trees.” Alma hung back; some impression of peril seized her.