“Haow come, buddy?” queried Perk.
“We were talking about a certain scoundrel who’s name we’ve seen so often of late in the papers—remember, Perk?”
An expression of sublime delight passed over the face of Gabe Perkiser; showing how he understood, and what a sense of exhileration the knowledge afforded him.
“Kinder guess naow, Jack, yeou might be meanin’ that same Ole King Cole like he goes to call hisself—the brazen guy that makes all kinds o’ fun o’ Secret Service mokes—is that the answer, brother?”
Jack nodded in a way that could have only one meaning.
“Okay, Perk; you’re on.
“Shake on that, young feller—it’s the most glorious news I ever did get outen Washington. If half what they says turns aout to be true, we’re in fur the hot time o’ aour life, seems like.”
“You never can tell, partner, which way the cat will jump—sometimes when you’re expecting an easy windup things get mighty tough; then again if you’re looking for a hard battle it sometimes turns out to be just a mere walkover—a flash in the pan. We have to take things as we find them, and let it go at that.”
“Ole King Cole sent aout his nasty defi to the hull Secret Service crowd, an’ so far he’s been able to give the boys the nasty grand laugh; but they say a pitcher may go to the well jest onct too many times—mebbe we might be the lucky ones to smash the same, pronto.”
“I’ve read that two different men of our staff have disappeared, after getting hot on the trail of this band of scoundrels; which goes to tell us they’re a hard-boiled bunch, who wont stop at committing any crime so as to keep out of the pen.”