"Your head, pard," said the cowboy solicitously. "You've had a couple of good hard raps, and I'll bet that block of yours feels as big as a barrel."
"I'm like Twomley," smiled Matt, "and couldn't expect to come through such a tussle without a few marks. But it's nothing serious. Another thing, Burton," he added, turning to the showman, "just recollect that, if Wily wanted to, he could have used that thing Joe has in his hand. But he wouldn't, and he fought with Dhondaram rather than let him use it."
"Wily hadn't the nerve," commented Burton. "He's in the parlor class when it comes to strong-arm work. He's more of a shell worker and a confidence man."
"Don't be rough, Burton," begged Wily Bill.
"What've you got to say for yourself?"
"I'm blamed sorry things turned out like they did. That's all."
"Just how sorry are you? Sorry enough to make a clean breast of everything?"
"That depends on what'll happen to me. You let the ticket man off when he and Dhondaram tried to loot the Jackson proceeds. I didn't do half as much as him."
"Tell me what you've done, and then I'll tell you what I'm goin' to do," said Burton.
"I knew Ben Ali pretty well when he was with the show," returned Wily, "but he didn't put it up with me to help steal the ticket-wagon money. I'm not makin' such a terrible sight as spieler for that side-show outfit, and when I get a letter in Kalamazoo, inclosin' another in Hindoostanee and askin' me to deliver same, what am I goin' to do? That letter contained a money order for ten dollars."