"I'll make him send me out now," he asserted confidently.
"How you mak' eet him?"
"I'll talk turkey to him till he's so mad he can't see straight. Then maybe he'll send me out right away."
"How you mak' eet him so mad?" inquired Picard, with mild curiosity.
"Never you mind—I'll do it."
"Bâ oui," ruminated Picard, "He is get mad pret' queeck. I t'ink p'raps dat plan he go all right. You was get heem mad plaintee easy. Den maybee he is sen' you out toute suite—maybee he is shoot you."
"I'll take the chances—my friend."
"Bâ oui," shrugged Achille Picard, "eet is wan chance."
He commenced to roll another cigarette.