It didn't hit any of us very hard in those days.
One evening I took him aside and fed him a drink, and expostulated with him.
"Oh, HELL, Rogers," he burst out, "I don't care about the loot.

But, suffering cats, think how that fellow sized us up for a lot of pattern-made fools; and how right he was about, it.

Why all he did was to sail out of sight around the next corner.

He knew we'd start across country; and we did.

All we had to do was to lay low, and save our legs.