"Bud give it me, 'n' say—"
"All right," nodded Spike, dusting the straw tenderly with a handkerchief. "Now git, I wanter be alone."
"But, say, Kid, Bud says I was ter say as he's sorry for what he said, 'n' say, he says you'd better be gettin' over t' O'Rourke's, 'n' say—"
"I ain't comin'!"
"But say, you're t' fight Young Alf, 'n' say—"
"I ain't comin'!"
"But say, dere's a lot of our money on ye—I got two plunks meself, 'n' say, you just gotter fight anyway. Bud says so—"
"I can't help what Bud says; I ain't comin'."
"Not comin'!" exclaimed Larry, his eyes rounder than ever.
"No!"