"I say, come on home."
"How many more has he got?"
"Get him home, you fellows."
"Stop him."
Meanwhile, abetted by the admiring, delighted McNab, Tom Kelly, taking the most solicitous aim, was continuing his serious efforts to hit the moon with the pool-balls which he had procured no one knew how.
"I say, McNab," said Stover, drawing him aside, "better get him to stop now. Too many cops around. Use your influence—he'll listen to you."
McNab's sense of responsibility having thus become violently agitated, he wabbled up to the laboring Kelly, and the following historic dialogue took place:
"I say, Tom, old fellow, you know me, don't you? You know I'm a good sort, don't you—one of the finest?"
"I know you, Dopey McNab; I'm proud to know you."
"I want to speak a word with you seriously."