It
sure is some scheme, Bud; I couldn't have thought it out better myself.
Paper 'n' pencil, Bud--get busy an' I'll sashay over an' send it off for
ye--t'night."
During Soapy's unusually long speech, M'Ginnis sat staring at him under
frowning brows, but now he turned and scowled down at the sheet of
paper, picked up the pencil, laid it by again and sat opening and
shutting his big hands, while Soapy, lighting another cigarette, watched
him furtively. When at last he spoke, his voice was thick, and he didn't
lift his scowling gaze.
"Send that kid Larry t' me, an' say--you don't have t' come back."
"All right, Bud, all right--only you'd best send two telegrams t' make
sure--one t' Fift' Av, an' one t' his place up th' river. S' long,
Buddy!"
Some fifteen minutes later, the boy Larry, stepping out of O'Rourke's,
was swung to the wall in Soapy's grip.
"Aw--say, cheese it now! Is that you, Soapy?"
"'S right, my bucko. Fork out that telegram--quick!"
"Aw, say, what yer mean--'n' say, Bud told me to hustle, 'n' say--"
"Dig it out--quick!" said Soapy, the dangling cigarette glowing
fiercely.
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