"I'd have hammered the life out of Andy Gilmore!" he said, as he tossed the ugly bludgeon from him.
"You haven't told me where you have been," said Langham, and once more he pressed close to Montgomery, so close their elbows touched.
The handy-man moved a little to one side.
"Where _ain't_ I been, you better ask, boss," he said.

"I seen more rotten cities and more rotten towns and more rotten country than you can shake a stick at; God A'mighty knows what's the good of it--I dunno! Everybody I seen was strangers to me, never a face I knowed anywhere; Chicago, Kansas City, St.Louis, Denver--to hell with 'em all, boss; old Mount Hope's good enough for me!" And the handy-man shrugged his huge slanting shoulders.
"Don't go so fast, Joe!" Langham cautioned, and his eyes searched the darkness ahead of them.
"It's a risky business for you, boss," said the handy-man.

"You ain't used to this bridge like me." "Do you always come this way ?" asked Langham.
"Always, in all seasons and all shapes, drunk or sober, winter or summer," said the handy-man.
"One wouldn't have much chance if he slipped off here to-night," said Langham with a shudder.
"Mighty little," agreed Montgomery.

"Say, step over, boss--we want to keep in the middle! There--that's better, I was clean outside the rail." "Can you swim ?" asked Langham.
"Never swum a stroke.

The dirt's good enough for me; I got a notion that these here people who are always dippin' themselves are just naturally filthy.