"Uf anypody vill name id, I vill gif id do 'em!" cried a nasal voice, and Solomon Rosenbum, with his pack, newly bound up, was seen on the edge of the crowd, having just arrived.
"My name, thir, ith Cholly Gwayson De Smythe," haughtily declared the dude. "I do not apweciate youah inthulting manner, thir. I demand an apology, thir!"
"Apology!" howled Buckhorn, looking savage. "Of me?"
"Ye-ye-yeth, thir," faltered Cholly, shivering.
"Wa'al, I'll be derned!"
"Do you apologize, thir?"
"Ter a thing like you? No!"
"Then I'll—I'll——"
"What?"
"Thee you lataw, thir."