“Did you ring, gents?” inquired one of the bartenders, thrusting his head into the room.
“Naw, we didn’t ring,” said Sam.
“We didn’t,” agreed Bill; “but you may bring us two more whiskies.”
“Got ter talk kinder low and quiet-like here,” said Sam. “They are nosey around this place. Notice how that chap looked at us?”
“Mebbe he didn’t like the cut of our whiskers.”
The bartender soon returned with the drinks, which were promptly paid for, and he departed.
“Sam,” said Bill, having dashed off his drink at a single gulp, “have you the nerve to stand by me?”
“Nerve? What do you want? What do you mean?”
“I mean that I am just about ready to go back there, and light on that gent all spraddled out, and squeeze him hard. If you back me up we’ll go, and I’ll bet we will make him cough up fifty plunks to each of us.”
Sam’s eyes gleamed a little.