Hugh Pendexter

“ Youse will git pinched, sure. Jest keep low an' de time will come when youse can wipe out de insult.”
“I know, Snyme,” choked Mr. Bilks, resuming his seat and shaking his head ruefully, “an' t'ank Heaven I ain't got no wife nor childer ter share de disgrace! But ter t'ink of Slinkey Bill, known from Portland, Maine, ter 'Frisco, bein' doped out fer doin' a yegg job! No drillin', mind ye, jest cold-blooded blacksmith work. An' here's me dat always considers de head guy's feelin's, an' if I has ter open a box in his office I don't leave no winder-glass broken. ”

“ For six months he had been living quietly and happily on the proceeds of his last victim, a general store up-State, where the private safe of an egotistical proprietor had opened and disgorged its wealth in the most amiable manner imaginable. ”

“ No, sir, Slinkey Bill has always tried ter do a disagreeable job wid as little trouble ter de head gent as possible.”
“Dat's so, Slinkey,” agreed Mr. Snyme politely.
“Yes, sir, dat is so. Many de office-floor I've swept an' many de hard licks I've put in a-tidyin' up a joint after I'd made a clutter in coaxin' open de bin. Many de lame back I'se got from goin' out of my way ter be 'commodatin'. An' wot has all dis care an' trouble done fer me? Nut'in'. Wot's my reputation ter-day? Nut'in'. I've never believed in hurtin' a man's feelin's more'n I had ter. ”