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Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"The Definite Object A Romance of New York"

"If he'd happened t' have a gun handy, here's
where you'd have cashed in for good, I reckon. Yes, Bud, you'd be deader
'n' mutton!" sighed Soapy, turning Spike's hat around upon his finger.
"You'd be as dead as--little Maggie Finlay you was mentionin'!"
M'Ginnis wheeled so suddenly upon the speaker that he took a long
step backward, but he still spun Spike's hat upon his finger, and the
pendulous cigarette quivered quite noticeably. "Aw, quit it, Bud, quit
it!" he sighed. "You know I ain't th' kind o' guy it's healthy to punch
around promiscuous."
"You mean if he'd missed, there was you, eh?"
"Well, I dunno, Bud, if it had been my sister--maybe--"
"Oh, I know the sort o' dirty tyke you are, Soapy--but I'm awake--an'
I've got you, see? If anything was t' happen t' me, I've left
papers--proofs--'n' it 'ud be the chair for yours--savvy?"
"Anyway, Bud, I--I haven't got a sister," said Soapy, juggling deftly
with the hat. "But there's one thing, Bud, th' guy who gets actin' Mr.
Freshy with Hermy is sure goin' to ante-up in kingdom come, if th' Kid's
around.


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