“Newspaper men, hain’t we?”
“Yes,” says I.
“Sellin’ advertisin’ to the county to-day?”
“Yes,” says I.
“Then,” says he, “whatever those f-fellers do is mighty int’restin’ to me.”
“All right,” says I. “What of it?”
“I’m f-figgerin’,” says he, “on how we could git to l-listen a little to what they was sayin’.”
“Eavesdroppin’,” says I, scornful-like.
“When men is up to a game and s-sneaks off to p-plan it,” he says, “it’s not eavesdroppin’ to listen. They git what’s comin’ to ’em.”
“Have it that way, then,” says I.