“Say! it was d' one trick that saves him! At d' bang of d' gun every dep'ty leaps to his trilbys an' comes chasin'. D' outside mark has just unslewed his door. He flings it wide open an' scoots inside d' cage. Joe t'rows d' inside door open—for Joe's dead swift to take a hunch that way—an 'd' outside guard an 'd' entire bunch of dep'ties goes sprintin' into d' jail. Then Joe locks 'em all in an' loafs t'rough d' offices into d' street.
“Yes; Joe knows where he's goin'. He toins into d' foist stairway an' climbs one story to a law office, which d' crooks outside has fixed to be open, waitin' for him. Nixie; d' law guy ain't in on d' play. A dip named Jim Butts comes an' touts this law sharp away, an' cons him into goin' out six miles to d' country to draw d' last will an' test'ment of a galoot he says is on d' croak, an' can't wait for mornin'. Yes, Butts has one of his mob faked up for sick, an' dey detains d' law guy four hours makin' d' will. This stall of Butts, who's doin' d' sick act, sets up between gasps an' gives away more'n twenty million dollars wort' of wealt'. This crook who's fakin' sick is on his uppers at d' time, an' don't really have d' price of beer; but to hear him make his will that night, you'd say he was d' richest ever; d' Astors was monkeys to him.
“As I states, Joe skips into this lawyer's office, d' same bein' open for d' poipose, an' one of d' 'fambly' holdin' it down. While Joe's in there he hears d' chase runnin' up an' down in d' street below d' window.
“Not for long, though. Fifteen minutes after Joe is outside d' jug, one of d' crooks calls up d' Central Office be telephone.
“'Who's talkin'?' asts d' captain at d' Central Office.
“'It's Doyle, lieutenant o' police, Fourt' Precinct,' says d' crook who's on d' wire. Me man on d' station house beat just reports Joe Dubuque drivin' west on Detroit street wit' a horse an' buggy. He was on d' dead run, lamin' loose to beat four of a kind. Send all d' men youse can spare.'
“An' that's what d' captain at d' Central Office does. In ten minutes every cop an' fly cop is on d' chase, a mile away from Joe, an' gettin' furder every secont, see!
“After a while it settles down all quiet an' dead about d' jail, an 'd' little old law office where Joe lies buried. He, an' d' crook who's waitin' for him, is chinnin' each other in whispers. All d' time Joe's got his lamps to d' window pipin' off d' other side of d' street. At last a cab drives up opposite d' law office an' stops. A w'ite han'kerchief shows flutterin' be d' window. It's Wild Willie who's inside.
“Joe's pal gets up an' goes down to d' street. All's clear an' he w'istles up to Joe. When he gets d' office Joe sort of loafs down an' saunters over to d' cab. D' door opens an' in one move Joe's inside, an' d' nex' his arm is 'round his Moll. She's all right, this Wild Willie is, an' Joe does d' correct t'ing to give her d' fervent squeeze.
“That's d' end. Joe Dubuque runs clear away, goes under cover, an' d' sheriff never gets his hooks on him ag'in. As Joe drives be d' jail he can still hear them captiffs singin' 'Rock of Ages.'