"And I'll gamble there ain't enough unflinchin' demeanor on the Coast to put that boy through the scene.

Honest-to-gran'-ma, Luck, that there Tracy Gray Joyce gits pale, and his Adam's apple pumps up and down when I come up and smile at him! What color do yuh reckon he'll turn to when he stands up to me right after me slaying all these innocent boys--and me a-foamin' at the mouth and gloatin' over the foul deed I've just did?
Say?
How's he going to keep that there Adam's apple from shootin' clean up through his hair, and his knees from wobblin'?
How--" "He won't," said Luck suddenly, with a brightening of his eyes.

"He won't.

I hope they do wobble.

You go ahead, Bud, and foam at the mouth.
You--you _look_ at Tracy Gray Joyce.