“‘That sounds familiar-like to me.’
“‘Hey, Rube!’ I gives it again, an’, say, they gets in, an’ they put that waiter gang into a pile that looks like a hash brown in a spill.”
“Well, what happened to you?” said the Canvasman, who was always there for the battle tales.
“Me, say, I gets it all. A couple of dinnys pulls me to a box, an’ in the cell all night for me. An’, say, if it hadn’t been for James A., Lord bless his soul, me to the island for winter quarters an’ in stripes.”
“But what becomes of the fairy?” says the Saw Dust Spreader, who always likes to know the finish.
“What becomes of her?” says the Candy Butcher, feeling a couple of scars. “I hears it all later. She had married the guy an’ moves over to Jersey. He’s keepin’ a saloon, an’ she’s cookin’ the oysters. He gives one with every drink.”