"And I'll be glad to call some day, when I happen in your neighborhood.

And if you ever ride over toward the Bay State, be sure you stop." Well, say! old King turned the color of a ripe prune; every hair in that stubble of beard stood straight out from his chin, and he looked as if murder would be a pleasant thing.

He took the glass and deliberately emptied the whisky on the floor.

"John Carleton's son, eh?
I might 'a' known it--yuh look enough like him.

Me drink with a son of John Carleton?
That breed uh wolves had better not come howling around _my_ door.