“O-o-o-o-oh, hell!” wailed Amos. “I might as well blow out my brains, I suppose.”
“Well,” said Putney judiciously, “it might save complications. Might be safer to shoot the examiner.”
“But I can’t shoot straight, Put! You sure advised me into a lot of misery. What’ll I do?”
“Give yourself up.”
“And get hung?”
“Start running.”
“Run where? I haven’t got enough money to make a getaway.”
“Well, you can shoot straight enough to kill yourself, can’t you?”
“Oh, you’re a hell of a lawyer! Didn’t you ever give any good advice to anybody?”
“This ain’t a point of law, Amos—this is emergency.”