“Drop that revolver!” said the detective, and knocked it with a quick blow from his prisoner’s hand.
“Oh, it’s jammed,” said the other, with a little bitter laugh. “If it hadn’t been fer that, I’d ’a’ got you!”
“What’s your game?” Stanley demanded, and swung his prisoner around so that he could see his face. “Why,” he cried, chuckling with satisfaction, “if it ain’t our old friend Hummel! This certainly is a pleasant meeting. Welcome to our city!”
Hummel’s face was livid and his blackened and swollen lips were drawn away from his teeth in an ugly snarl.
“Don’t be too gay!” he said, thickly. “Don’t be too gay! Mebbe you’ll be laughin’ on the other side of your face afore long!”
“Well, one couldn’t tell which side you’re laughin’ on,” retorted Stanley, “fer the dirt. Been livin’ with your friends the hogs?”
“Never you mind!” said Hummel, still more thickly, and reeled a little and put his hands to his head. “Never you mind!”
“Why, I believe the man’s drunk!” said Stanley. “Come on back with me, my friend, an’ I’ll send you up-town in style, behind two horses, with a gong ringin’ in front. Come on,” and he started to lead his prisoner back toward the freight-house.
But Hummel developed a sudden limpness and sat down suddenly upon the pavement.
“What d’you want me fer?” he demanded, sullenly.