“Somebody’s gug-gug-going to fuf-fuf-find out we mean bub-bub-business!” stuttered Gamp.
“I opine one chap has found it out already,” observed Buck Badger dryly.
“It must have been a shock to him,” said Dade Morgan, a gleam of satisfaction in his dark eyes.
“Glad he tackled Frank,” yawned Browning, with a wearied air. “I don’t feel like exerting myself after that infernally uncomfortable car ride.”
“The gentleman experienced a taste of jutsuju—I mean jujutsu,” laughed Harry Rattleton.
“Sorry Merry had to soil his hands on the big loafer,” said Dick Starbright, taking off his hat and tossing back his mane of golden hair.
“It was a clever piece of business,” admitted Jim Stretcher; “but two years ago, at a fair in Tipton, Missouri, I saw a little piece of business that——”
“Don’t tell it—don’t dare to tell it!” exclaimed Badger. “I’m from Kansas, and I’m sick of hearing these powerful extravagant tales about Missouri. If you mention Missouri in my hearing for the next three days you’ll be in danger of sudden destruction. That’s whatever!”
“You’re jealous, and I don’t blame you,” said Jim. “If I lived in Kansas I’d never acknowledge it. It was the last place created, and made out of mighty poor material. Everybody in Kansas worth knowing has moved out.”
“Which is a genuine Irish bull,” said Morgan.