"
"Them guys had practice--and likely they never had to go against their
stepmothers."
"Do I go alone, then?"
"Well, now--"
"Will you or won't you?"
Boogies drew a fateful breath.
"I'll take a chance. You wait here. If I ain't back in one hour you'll
know I been murdered."
"Good, my man!" said Jimmie Time with the air of an outlaw chief. "Be
off at once."
Boogies was off. And Boogies was back in less than the hour with a
delectable bulging meal sack. He was trembling but radiant.
"She seen me gitting away and she yelled her head off," he gasped; "but
you bet I never stopped. I just thought of Jesse James and General
Grant, and run like hell!"
"Good, my man!" said Jimmie Time; and then, with a sudden gleam of the
practical, he inventoried the commissary and quartermaster supplies in
the sack. He found them to be: One hatchet; one well-used boiled
hambone; six greasy sugared crullers; four dill pickles; a bottle of
catchup; two tomatoes all but obliterated in transit; two loaves of
bread; a flatiron.
Jimmie cast the last item from him.
"Wh'd you bring that for?" he demanded.
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