"Cut that," he snarled. "I want to talk business with YOU."
"Right down to brass tacks," I gibed. "Very well, when are you and
the rest of your rats going to turn to?"
"Cut that," he reiterated. "I've got you where 1 want you now. Take
it from me, I'm givin' it straight. I'm not tellin' you how, but
I've got you under my thumb. When I come down on you, you'll crack."
"Hell is full of cocksure rats like you," I retorted; although I
never dreamed how soon he would be writhing in the particular hell
preparing for him.
"Forget it," he sneered back. "I've got you where I want you. I'm
just tellin' you, that's all."
"Pardon me," I replied, "when I tell you that I'm from Missouri.
You'll have to show ME."
And as I thus talked the thought went through my mind of how I
naturally sought out the phrases of his own vocabulary in order to
make myself intelligible to him. The situation was bestial, with
sixteen of our complement already gone into the dark; and the terms I
employed, perforce, were terms of bestiality.
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