“Well, dey gives me a look, an’ den dey looks back t’wards de comp’ny an’ sees dat de chances is dat dey’ll not be missed for a little w’ile, an’ den de four of us takes a quiet sneak off t’rough de shrubb’ry.
“‘Now jus’ listen to me w’ile I gurgle,’ I says, w’en we’d got to de place w’ere me rifle was hid. ‘D’youse see dat phernomenum out dere in de horizon? Well, dat bird o’ paradise,’ I says, ‘is Hickey, Corp’ral Hickey, o’ K Comp’ny.’
“‘I want to know if it is!’ says Jonesey. ‘An’ have youse pulled us out here to give us dat important information! I’m t’inkin’ o’ breakin’ y’r back, Larry,’ says he, ‘an’ I would, too, if ’twasn’t for losin’ yer de job o’ luggin’ de big drum.’
“‘Is dat so?’ says I, dodgin’ a swipe he made at me head. ‘S’posin’ youse wait for me to get t’rough! I’m not talkin’ to fill up no fonygraft; I’m talkin’ war.’
“‘Leaf’m alone,’ says Schultz, ‘an’ see vat he hass upon dot gr-reat mindt off his.’ An’ Jonesey, he lef’ me alone.
“‘Yes, dat’s Corp’ral Hickey,’ says I, indicatin’ me objective again wid me rifle. ‘I know’m easy by de size of his ears. An’ if youse fellies isn’t all stiffs, we c’n capture him alive. W’at d’youse say?’ I says. ‘Are youse mugs wid me, or agin me?’
“McKenzie allowed dat ’twould be sport if we could scoop in Hickey, an’ Schultz was agreeable to de scheme, so den I ’xplained w’at I wanted ’em to do, an’ we started in on de conspiracy. An’ all dis time, mind youse, de battle was goin’ on hot an’ heavy. But we wasn’t mindin’ nobody’s funeral ’ceptin’ ours—an’ I was de undertaker!
“Dis is w’at I done wid de boys: I posted ’em behin’ bushes an’ trees, right up close to de edge o’ de woods, but so far from w’ere de flank of A lain dat nobody ever’d catch on to deir bein’ dere. An’ den I give me rifle to McKenzie, an’ strolled out into de field an’ over ’cross t’wards de lef’ o’ K.
“Wen I got widin ’bout fifty yards o’ Mister Hickey, bein’ kind o’ quarterin’n a’ off to one side of’m, I sings out an’ says ‘Does yoore face pa-ain youse, Hickey?’ I says. ‘I notices dat it kind o’ gets twisted out o’ shape in aimin’. By de way youse wrinkles up dat lef eye I should t’ink dat one o’ y’r lights was went out,’ I says. Dat seemed to catch de boys in Hickey’s squad, an’ dey give’m de gran’ laff.
“‘Go chase yerself off’n de field, Larry,’ says Hickey, answerin’ me back. ‘Dis aint no place for kids. ’Tisn’t safe for youse ’round w’ere I am. I’m feelin’ dryer’n a covered bridge, an’ ’twouldn’t take much to make me catch yer an’ drink y’r blood.’