Yet in a dazed, helpless way, he was aware of what was occurring about
him; he could hear voices, feel the thud of a brutal kick. Some one
dragged him out from the mess, and turned his face up to the light; but
he lay there barely breathing; his eyes tightly closed.
"It's a knock-out all right," Hogan declared. "That guy is good for an
hour in dream-land. What's the dope?"
"We got to keep him here, that's all; and there's goin' to be no get-away
this time."
"How'd he do it before, Jim? did he tell you?"
"Not a damned word; I was fool enough to do all the talking. But this
fellow is too slick to take any more chances with."
"Do you want him croaked?"
"No, I don't--not now. What the hell's the use? It would only make things
harder. We're ready to make our get-away, ain't we? After tomorrow all
hell can't get onto our trail. This guy's life wouldn't help us none, so
far as I can see."
"Getting squeamish, ain't you?"
"No, I'm not. I've got as much reason to hate the fellow as you have,
'Red.' He certainly swiped me one. Before we had the swag copped, I was
willing enough to put him out of the running. That was business. You sure
did a fine job then, damn you; now I don't think it is your time to howl.
Listen here, will you? From all I learn, this bird amounts to something;
he ain't just a dago to be bumped off, and nobody care what's become of
him. This guy has got friends. It won't help us any to be hunted after
for murder on top of this other job.
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