“What of it?”
“Why, he's one of your heelers.”
“Don't know him.”
“Didn't you ever see him? Well, Tom Berry knows him. He lived in Muscadine Street, over the river. Tom Berry says he used to sit 'way back under your gallery, curled up like a muskrat, eating his beard and drinking eloquence like raw brandy. Say, he looks like it.”
“Do you think I recommended him to shoot Wood?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“Been writing some buckshot paragraphs on me, then?”
Carroll shook his head.
“Don't know how it is. Down with the devil! Hicks, go shoot Wood! Never saw a man like you to make a general remark sound so blanked particular. No, but I'm going to soak you six to-morrow, you bet.”
Carroll laughed and flitted away.