The photographer followed them to the elevator and down to the street where they waited for Gibson's detectives.
"What's doing?" Benton asked.
"Can you work that camera of yours with a load of buckshot whistling by your head?" asked Brennan.
"Hot stuff, huh?" Benton asked, eagerly. John saw that the photographer's face actually brightened at the prospect of something out of the usual. Brennan told him, in short graphic sentences, what was before them.
"Gosh darn!" Benton ejaculated. "Hot dog and sweet puppies!"
As an outlet for his excitement he danced a queer little jig on the sidewalk, muttering a rhythmic verse as he shuffled his feet. At the termination of each heavily accented line he slapped his right foot down loudly. As he jigged his voice grew louder until John could discern the familiar lines from Kipling:
"It was 'Din! Din! Din!'
'Ere's a beggar with a bullet through 'is spleen;
'E's chawin' up the ground,
An' he's kickin' all around;