Dopey Charlie and The General, alone of all the
company, waxed not enthusiastic over the advent of
The Oskaloosa Kid and his priceless loot. These two sat
scowling and whispering in the back-ground. "Dat's a
wrong guy," muttered the former to the latter. "He's a
stool pigeon or one of dese amatoor mugs."
"It's the pullin' of that punk graft that got my goat,"
replied The General. "I never seen a punk yet that didn't
try to make you think he was a wise guy an' dis stiff
don't belong enough even to pull a spiel that would fool
a old ladies' sewin' circle. I don't see wot The Sky Pi-
lot's cozyin' up to him fer."
"You don't?" scoffed Dopey Charlie. "Didn't you lamp
de oyster harness? To say nothin' of de mitful of rocks
and kale."
"That 'ud be all right, too," replied the other, "if we
could put the guy to sleep; but The Sky Pilot won't
never stand for croakin' nobody. He's too scared of his
neck. We'll look like a bunch o' wise ones, won't we?
lettin' a stranger sit in now--after last night. Hell!" he
suddenly exploded. "Don't you know that you an' me
stand to swing if any of de bunch gets gabby in front
of dis phoney punk?"
The two sat silent for a while, The General puffing on
a short briar, Dopey Charlie inhaling deep draughts
from a cigarette, and both glaring through narrowed lids
at the boy warming himself beside the fire where the
others were attempting to draw him out the while they
strove desperately but unavailingly to keep their eyes
from the two bulging sidepockets of their guest's coat.
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