Dago Frankie was his nearest and most trusted friend.
“He's over in Sixt' Avenoo shootin' craps,” replied Lemmy. “Shall I go dig him up?”
“It don't matter,” said Casey, after a moment's thought. Then, getting up from his chair, he inquired, “Have you guys got your cannons?”
“Sure t'ing!” came the general chorus, with a closer from Kenny.
“I've got two,” he said. “A sport might get along wit'out a change of shoits in Noo York, but he never ought to be wit'out a change of guns.”
“W'at's on, Phil?” asked Charlie Young, anxiously, as Casey pulled a magazine pistol, and carefully made sure that its stomach was full of cartridges; “w'at's on?”
“I'm goin' over to the Stag,” replied Casey. “If you ducks'll listen you'll hear a dog howl in about a minute.”
“We'll not only listen, but we'll go 'long,” returned Young.
Lemmy and Kenny fell behind the ethers. “W'at's th' muss?” whispered Lemmy.
“It's Leoni,” explained Kenny guardedly. “Goldie give her a wallop or two last night, an' Phil's goin' to do him for it.”