"Oh, no, sir, I wasn't even thinking of such a thing," Hanlon looked hurt. "Why, I'm just a kid. I know I couldn't expect anything else ... at first. Not until I've proved myself to you, or until I've made my pile and got in a position of power. Then, naturally, I'd want to get into something where I could really go places. But that's for years and years ahead, I know that."
The now-hard, cold eyes scrutinized him carefully, but still doubtfully. When the leader spoke his voice was more cordial, though still harder, not soft as it had been at first.
"I'll be frank, Hanlon. We're not too sure of you ... yet ... because you were a cadet. Oh, we know," as Hanlon started to protest hotly, "all about your being kicked out. We can see how all that might well have soured you enough so you will really do anything you can to get ahead, even if only to show the Corps. But you can understand our hesitation, I think."
"Of course, sir. But you needn't worry." He made his voice as bitter and hard as he could. "I've had my fill of all that law and order stuff. I was an innocent young punk, full of high ideals and the romance of the Corps and all that bunk. But those mangy slime-snakes knocked all that out of me. Anything I can do that'll give 'em a kick in the teeth I'll do with joy and gusto!"
"Fine words," snapped the leader, "but can you take it if the going gets tough?"
Hanlon was learning fast. Now he stared straight back into those hard eyes.
"Can you dish it out, Mister?" his tone was almost, but not quite, insolent.
Chapter 11
A black look suffused the leader's face at Hanlon's impertinent "can you dish it out, Mister?" He half-rose from his seat, while the other four men reached quick hands towards their weapons.