"That was a kangaroo, too."
"I judged so; they settled him for the dip. How did it come off?"
"Oh, it was them farmers down at Bayport. Dempsey had a privilege at the fair last fall; he took a hieronymous--hanky-panky, chuck-a-luck."
"Yes, I know," said Curly impatiently, "the old army game."
"Well, he skinned the shellapers, and they squealed this year to get even. They had him pinched for the dip. Why, old Dempsey couldn't even stall--he couldn't put his back up to go to the front!"
"Who did it?"
"Oh, a little Chicago gun. You don't know him."
"Well," said Curly, "you have had a run of bad luck."
"Do you know what does it?" Gibbs leaned over confidentially, a superstitious gleam in his eye. "It's that Koerner thing. There's a hoodoo over that family. That girl's been in here once or twice--with Jane. You tell Jane not to tow her round here any more. If I was you, I'd cut her loose--she'll queer you. You won't have any luck as long as you're filled in with her."
"I thought the old man had some damages coming to him for the loss of his gimp," said Curly.