"Well, Ted and me have a couple of marks--a jug and a p. o."
"Where?"
"Oh, out in the jungle--several of the tribes have filled it out."
"Well, I'm ready."
"Not now," Curly said, shaking his head; "the old stool-pigeon's out--she's a mile high these nights."
A reminiscent smile passed lightly over Curly's face, and he flecked the ash from his cigarette.
"Phillie Dave's out,"--and then he remembered that Archie had never known the thief who had been proselyted by the police and been one of a numerous company of such men to turn detective, and so had bequeathed his name as a synonym for the moon. "But you never knew him, did you?"
"Who?"
"Dave--Phillie Dave we call him; he really belonged to the cat--he's become a copper. He was before your time."
They chatted a little while, and as the noise in the bar-room increased, Curly said: