"We'll get Red Beak Jim to hike us down in his caloosh," said the main guy of the four. The four were job holders in one of the New York city departments, and they were talking about ways and means of reaching the Sheepshead track for the Suburban.
"Good thing," said the three others. "Go on and ask Jimmy for a figure, down and back, for the bunch. Hey, and don't let him dicker you out o' your gilt teeth. Jimmy's a robber."
So the main guy of the four sprinted after Red Beak Jim. He found him with the major portion of his countenance immersed in the collarette of an open-faced malt magnum.
"Hey, Jim," said the main guy, "hitch 'em up and bring 'em around about noon. Down to the Bay and back. There's four of us. What d'ye say to the note for $10 for the job?"
Red Beak Jim removed the mammoth piece of glassware from his face long enough to remark:
"Nothin' doin'."
"Ain't, hey?" said the main guy. "The old caloosh's fallen apart at last, hey?"
Red Beak Jim sat the beer-glass down and wiped off his mouth with the back of his coat-sleeve.
"It'll be jugglin' around when you're yelling for ice at any old price a hunnered," said he. "Nope, I'm 'ngaged f'r th' Bay."
"Say, you've got your fingers crossed or your suspenders," said the main guy. "Give you fifteen for the job."