“Sure, I'd know dem in a t'ous'n'. Le's hand 'em a couple an' beat it,” and he stooped to pick up a large stone that lay near at hand.
“Cut it!” whispered the second tramp. “Youse don't know dem guys at all. Dey may be de guys dat beats us up; but dat big stiff dere is more dan dat. He's wanted in Chi, an' dere's half a t'ou on 'im.”
“Who put youse jerry to all dat?” inquired the first tramp, skeptically.
“I was in de still wit 'im—he croaked some guy. He's a lifer. On de way to de pen he pushes dis dick off'n de rattler an' makes his get-away. Dat peter-boy we meets at Quincy slips me an earful about him. Here's w'ere we draws down de five hundred if we're cagey.”
“Whaddaya mean, cagey?”
“Why we leaves 'em alone an' goes to de nex' farm an' calls up K. C. an' tips off de dicks, see?”
“Youse don't tink we'll get any o' dat five hun, do youse, wit de dicks in on it?”
The other scratched his head.
“No,” he said, rather dubiously, after a moment's deep thought; “dey don't nobody get nothin' dat de dicks see first; but we'll get even with dese blokes, annyway.”
“Maybe dey'll pass us a couple bucks,” said the other hopefully. “Dey'd orter do dat much.”