"I been waiting for a pal like you, kid. And here's where we hit it off. You don't know much about the game, I guess? Neither did Black Jack. As a peterman he was a loud ha-ha; as a damper-getter he was just an amateur; as a heel or a houseman, well, them things were just outside him. When it come to the gorilla stuff, he was there a million, though. And when there was a call for fast, quick, soft work, Black Jack was the man. Kid, I can see that you're cut right on his pattern. And here's where you come in with me. Right off the bat there's going to be velvet. Later on I'll educate you. In three months you'll be worth your salt. Are you on?"
He hardly waited for Terry to reply. He rambled on.
"I got a plant that can't fail to blossom into the long green, kid. The store safe. You know what's in it? I'll tell you. Ten thousand cold. Ten thousand bucks, boy. Well, well, and how did it get there? Because a lot of the boobs around here have put their spare cash in the safe for safekeeping!"
He tilted his chin and indulged in another of his yawning, silent bursts of laughter.
"And you never seen a peter like it. Tin, kid, tin. I could turn it inside out with a can opener. But I ain't long on a kit just now. I'm on the hog for fair, as a matter of fact. Well, I don't need a kit. I got some sawdust and I can make the soup as pretty as you ever seen. We'll blow the safe, kid, and then we'll float. Are you on?"
He paused, grinning with expectation, his face gradually becoming blank as he saw no response in Terry.
"As nearly as I can make out—because most of the slang is new to me," said Terry, "you want to dynamite the store safe and—"
"Who said sawdust? Soup, kid, soup! I want to blow the door off the peter, not the roof off the house. Say, who d'you think I am, a boob?"
"I understand, then. Nitroglycerin? Denver, I'm not with you. It's mighty good of you to ask me to join in—but that isn't my line of work."
The yegg raised an expostulatory hand, but Terry went on: "I'm going to keep straight, Denver."