Glass took a deep breath.
"He doesn't mean to kill you—just cut you," said Speed. "I got it," declared the other, fervently. Again he laid repressing hands upon his bulging front and looked down at it tenderly. "They've all got it in for my pad, haven't they?"
"I told you to keep away from that girl."
"Humph!" Glass spoke with soulful conviction. "Take it from me, Bo, I'll walk around her as if she was a lake. Who'd ever think that chorus-man was a killer?"
"Surely you don't care for her seriously?"
"Not now. I—I love my Cuban, but"—he quivered apprehensively—
"I'll bet that rummy packs a 'shiv' in every pocket."
From outside the bunk-house came the low, musical notes of a quail, and Glass puckered his lips to answer, then grew pale. "That's her," he declared, in a panic. "I've got a date with her."
"Are you going to keep it?"
"Not for a nose-bag full of gold nuggets! Take a look, Wally, and see what she's doing."
Speed did as directed. "She's waiting."