“It’s nowise dang’rous,” Tubbs admitted.
“If I thought you was my kind, Tubbs, I’d give you a chance. I’d let you in on a deal that’d be the makin’ of you.”
“All I needs is a chanct,” Tubbs declared eagerly.
“I believe you,” Smith replied, with flattering emphasis.
A disturbing thought made Tubbs inquire anxiously:
“This here chanct your speakin’ of—it ain’t work, is it?—real right-down work?”
“Not degradin’ work, like pitchin’ hay or plowin’.”
“I hates low-down work, where you gits out and sweats.”
“I see where you’re right. There’s no call for a man of your sand and sabe to do day’s work. Let them as hasn’t neither and is afraid to take chances pitch hay and do plowin’ for wages.”
Tubbs looked a little startled.