Short Stories
Jim looked at him keenly under the street lamp of the next
crossing and saw that his face was a trifle grim and that he
carried his left arm peculiarly.
"What's the matter with your arm?" he demanded.
"The little cuss bit me. Hope I don't get hydrophoby. Folks
gets hydrophoby from manbite sometimes, don't they?"
"Gave you a fight, eh ?" Jim asked encouragingly.
The other grunted.
"You're harder'n hell to get information from," Jim burst ou
irritably. "Tell us about it. You ain't goin' to lose money just a-
tellin' a guy."
"I guess I choked him some," came the answer. Then, by
way of explanation, "He woke up on me."
"You did it neat. I never heard a sound."
"Jim," the other said with seriousness, "it's a hangin'
matter. I fixed 'm. I had to. He woke up on me. You an' me's
got to do some layin' low for a spell."
Jim gave a low whistle of comprehension.
"Did you hear me whistle?" he asked suddenly.
"Sure. I was all done. I was just comin' out."
"It was a bull. But he wasn't on a little bit. Went right by an'
kept a-paddin' the hoof out a sight. Then I come back an' gave
you the whitle. What made you take so long after that?"
"I was waitin' to make sure," Matt explained. "I was mighty
glad when I heard you whistle again. It's hard work waitin'.
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