O'Gorman grinned a wide Irish smile. "No, I ain't crazy, but we'll give 'em a square deal alla same."
"He is crazy," declared lank Shindle.
"A square deal," repeated O'Gorman. "A square deal—for us."
"I thought so," nodded plump Sam Larder, speaking for the first time since the beginning of the discussion. "A square deal—for us. Let's hear it, Tip."
O'Gorman sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. "When a dog is hungry it ain't sensible to feed him a whole juicy steak. He'll gobble it down an' come pesterin' round for more in five minutes. But give him a bone and he'll gnaw and gnaw and be a satisfied dog for quite a long while."
"What kind of a bone were you figuring on giving our dog?" inquired Tom Driver.
"Sheriff." Thus Tip O'Gorman with finality.
Felix Craft shook a decided head.
"Guess again. Too much meat on that bone."
"Not if it's the right kind of meat," said O'Gorman blandly.