“Here, boy, come here then!”
Babe Givens came—upon his knees.
“Close that bag.”
Babe fumbled the rusted claps shut.
“Now, shove it up close to me along the floor.”
Babe, he shoved it.
“Now get back yonder where you were.”
I leave it to you whether Babe got back yonder.
The figure swooped downward briskly, and two fingers of the hand which gripped the forearm of the gun caught in the looped handles of the black bag and brought it up dangling and heavy laden.
And now the custodian of these delectable spoils was backing toward the door, but still with weapon poised and ready.