"Den I vil squeeze your windpipe, so!"
"I ask your pardon. Oh! yes, I do. Thar, now, let me up!"
Fritz obeyed, and let the ruffian rise from the floor, but just as soon as he was on his feet Bully Jake drew a long knife.
"Oho! I didn't say what I'd do next!" he howled, brandishing the blade, threateningly. "I'll cut your cussed heart out now."
"Vil you, dough? Vel, I'll pet you yoost apout a half-dollar, on dot, I vil!" Fritz cried, drawing and cocking his revolver. "Now, you coome on, uff you vant to get der whole dop off your head plowed off. I can do der job vid greatest of pleasure."
The sight of the revolver caused the big loafer to pause.
"Ye wouldn't shoot, when I'm only in fun, would you?" he asked, incredulously.
"Well, just try me and see, dot's all," was the retort. "Your funniness vas entirely too t'in, mine friendt; I don'd vas like it. So I'll giff you one minnit der git oud. If you don'd vas gone py dot time, I vil shoot you so quicker ash I vould von leedle cat. One! Got ready, all der vile! Swi! High time you vas skinnin' oud! Three! Ven I hollers dot, if you don'd vas gone I spot you!"
"Then, tearfully and sadly, I must tear myself away from you," the ruffian declared, with a grimace, as he stalked toward the door, "I'll allow ye hold ther grip now, but thet ain't sayin' ye'll allus hold it."
Then he took his leave.