Galloping Dick
I could scarce hold from laughing at the droll creature, as he sat waggling his head sagely upon terms he had never so much as heard, and casting restless shots out of his cross-eyes upon me. But I sat grave enough, and looking to him of a sudden.
“But you,” says I, in a tone of inquiry, “will be no snip, I’ll dare swear?”
“Damme, no!” says he, flushing in a moment, and then adds hurriedly, “Well, no—not a snip—no, not quite, that is,” and fell to frowning uncomfortably.
“No,” said I cheerfully, “I took your measure when I first set eyes on you. But your sword—’twas that put me off in the start. But now,” I says, laughing, “I understand how you come by that.”
“Oh, yes, now, of course,” he replied, echoing me a bewildered laugh of his own.
“Does it pay you well?” I asked.
“Pay?” he said, stupidly. “O well,” says he, “tolerably, tolerably.”
“I’ve had half a mind to it myself,” said I, meditatively. “In these hard times a man may
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