'You got him hidden away somewheres, Sam,' said Mr MacGinnis. 'You
can't fool me. I'm com' t'roo dis joint wit a fine-tooth comb till
I find him.'

'By all means,' I said. 'Don't let me stop you.'

'You? You're coming wit me.'

'If you wish it. I shall be delighted.'

'An' cut out dat dam' sissy way of talking, you rummy,' bellowed
Buck, with a sudden lapse into ferocity. 'Spiel like a regular
guy! Standin' dere, pullin' dat dude stuff on me! Cut it out!'

'Say, why _mayn't_ I hand him one?' demanded the pistol-bearer
pathetically. 'What's your kick against pushin' his face in?'

I thought the question in poor taste. Buck ignored it.

'Gimme dat canister,' he said, taking the Browning pistol from
him. 'Now den, Sam, are youse goin' to be good, and come across,
or ain't you--which?'

'I'd be delighted to do anything you wished, Mr MacGinnis,' I
said, 'but--'

'Aw, hire a hall!' said Buck disgustedly. 'Step lively, den, an'
we'll go t'roo de joint. I t'ought youse 'ud have had more sense,
Sam, dan to play dis fool game when you know you're beat. You--'