Come to think of it, Chickie, be domn if I'd be a sucker at all.

Look at the mouths of thim! Puckered up with a drawstring! Oh, Hell on the Wabash, Chickie, think of Jimmy Malone lyin' at the bottom of a river flowin' with Melwood, and a puckerin'-string mouth! Wouldn't that break the heart of you?
I know what I'd be.

I'd be the Black Bass of Horseshoe Bend, Chickie, and I'd locate just below the shoals headin' up stream, and I'd hold me mouth wide open till I paralyzed me jaws so I couldn't shut thim.

I'd just let the pure stuff wash over me gills constant, world without end.
Good-by, Chickie.

Hope you got your grub, and pretty soon I'll have enough drink to make me feel like I was the Bass for one night, anyway." Jimmy hurried to his next trap, which was empty, but the one after that contained a rat, and there were footprints in the snow.