"Thash whu-what I tut-told him!" cried Jerry Fern, pounding the table with a vehement fist. "I ought tut-tut-to have num-more."
"He's treatin' you mean," said Guerilla. "He ain't goin' to give you any more money."
"Yesh he wuh-will," insisted Jerry.
"He told me different." Thus Dawson.
"Yesh he wuh-will. Huh-he'll have to gimme all money I want. Pup-put him in juh-juh-jail if he don't."
Guerilla and Dawson looked toward the doorway giving into the other room. Then they began to laugh immoderately. "That's a good one," cried Guerilla, wiping his eyes. "You can't put Felix Craft in jail. He hasn't done anything wrong."
"Oh, ain't he?" flared Jerry Fern with all the drunkard's irritation at being disbelieved. "I know more abub-bub-bout Fuf-felix Cuc-craft than you thuh-think. I cuc-can muh-make Fuf-felix Cuc-craft lul-lie dud-down and rur-roll over."
"Yes, you can." With derision.
"Yeah, I cuc-can!"
"What makes you think so?"