"Well, Bub, I went
into your all-fired Canady!"
"So you did--why?"
"Well," said Greenfield, drawing lines with his knife-point on the nap,
"one reason was I wanted to see if Her Majesty's shop has such an
all-fired long arm--"
"And the other reason was I warned you to keep over the line."
"Why, Bub, you _are_ a bright boy!"
"It ain't me, Bucky," Frawley answered, with a shake of his head; "it's
the all-fired government that's after you."
"Good--first rate--then we'll have a little excitement!"
"You'll have plenty of that, Bucky!"
"Maybe, Bub, maybe. Well, I made a neat job of it, didn't I?"
"You did," admitted Frawley with an appreciative nod. "But you were
wrong--you were wrong--you should have kept off. The Canadian Government
ain't like your bloomin' democracy. It don't forgive--it don't forget.
Tack that up, Bucky. It's a principle we've got at stake with you!"
"Don't I know it?" cried Greenfield, striking the table. "What else do
you think I did it for?"
Frawley gazed at him, then said slowly: "I told them it was a personal
matter.
Pages:
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217