Dago’s reply was mingled with profanity as the men came down a path and passed by the spot where John was crouching, ears straining for every word. As the men went on, the lad arose and followed them, stepping softly and listening to a great many interesting things.
“Well, we got the other kid, anyhow, Dago.”
“Yeh, and we’ll get-a the dark-haired one, too, before the night’s over. Nevada’s sure glad!”
“Gallagher didn’t seem so happy, somehow, Dago,” said a voice.
Dago swore.
“Gallagher ain’t——”
“Ain’t what, Dago?”
“Youse guys ull tell Nevada if I tells ya what I thinks, so I’m keeping mum.”
“Trouble with you, Dago, is, you ain’t a good loser!” chuckled the first man. “He licked you with the rods, licked you with his fists, and his brain’s just ’bout eight times your size brain, stupid!”
“What’s the use of hanging round here all night, Dago,” some one else wanted to know. “We can’t see the other kid in the dark. We ain’t cats, ya know!”