"Come on, Dan, come on! Don't make a row here, 'cause in the first place Sam Barney ain't worth it, an' then again you mustn't get up a name for fightin'."
"I reckon that dressin' this chump down won't set me off very bad, an' I'm willin' to take the risks. Now stand up and show what you can do!" he added as he released his hold of the detective's collar.
Sam made no effort to rise, nor did he so much as reply.
"You was terrible sharp for a row with Seth, 'cause you counted on his not mixing up with sich as you. I'm a good bit smaller than he is, an' am ready to give you all the fightin' that's wanted. Come on, and be funny same's you was a minute ago."
"I ain't got any row with you, Dan Roberts," Sam muttered.
"What's the reason you haven't got as much of a one with me as you had with Seth? We're partners, an' he never said half the rough things about you that I have."
"Leave me alone, or I'll yell for the perlice!"
"I thought you wasn't achin' terrible bad for a fight," and Dan flourished his fists precisely as Sam had done while trying to provoke Seth. "Yell for the perlice, will yer? I've a precious good mind to give you a couple of black eyes, only that I hate to hit a feller who don't dare to put up his hands."
"Come on, Dan, don't spend your time with him!" Seth cried. "He won't fight, an' never would. There wouldn't been any bluff made if he hadn't known I'd promised myself not to get the name of bein' a bruiser."
Dan did as his partner suggested, and the would-be detective remained quietly in the gutter until the two were half a block away, when he arose and cried vindictively: