Jim chuckled in the darkness, and waited for further information. The
blocks passed by; under their feet, and he grew impatient.
"Well, how about them goods?" he asked. "What kind of a haul did you
make, anyway?"
"I was too busy to figger it out, but it's fat. I can tell you that
much, Jim, it's fat. I don't dast to think how fat it is. Wait till we
get to the room."
Jim looked at him keenly under the street lamp of the next crossing, and
saw that his face was a trifle grim and that he carried his left arm
peculiarly.
"What's the matter with your arm?" he demanded.
"The little cuss bit me. Hope I don't get hydrophoby. Folks gets
hydrophoby from man-bite sometimes, don't they?"
"Gave you a fight, eh!" Jim asked encouragingly.
The other grunted.
"You're certainly bard to get information from," Jim burst out
irritably. "Tell us about it. You ain't goin' to lose money just
a-tellin' a guy."
"I guess I choked him some," came the answer. Then, by way of
explanation, "He woke up on me."
"You did it neat. I never heard a sound."
"Jim," the other said with seriousness, "it's a hangin' matter. I fixed
'm. I had to. He woke up on me. You an' me's got to do some layin' low
for a spell.
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