"Spit it out!"

"Make the turn, Corkey!"

"Everything goes as it lays!"

Such are the preparatory comments of the audience.

"Your honor--"

Corkey has been "pulled" for gambling. His public addresses heretofore
have been made before the police justice.

"YOUR HONOR, MR. CHAIRMAN, AND MR. DELEGATES:--We're goin' to quit you.
We're goin' to walk, to sherry, to bolt. We didn't have no fair chance
to vote our men yesterday. We carried our wards just as you carried
your'n. We've just as good a right to the candidate as you have. We
therefore with-with-with-go out--and you can bet your sweet life we
stay out! and you hear me--"

"Goon!" "Goon!" "Ki-yi!" "Yip-yip!"

Such are the flattering outbursts. Why does the orator pause?

His head quakes and vibrates, his face grows black, the mouth opens
into a parallelogram, the sharp little tongue plays about the mass of
black tobacco.

The convention leaps to its feet. The Sneeze has come.