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 descriptive. It was a word which gave pleasure to the speaker, and Dave liked that sort of word. What other name or names Bishwhang might once have possessed have been lost in the mists of history.

This pair constituted Wilkins’s staff—with the almost negligible exception of Nellie Ramsay, who did little, and that incompetently, in the office. That is to say, they had constituted the entire force until that very morning when another hand had been put on—when, at precisely eight o’clock Dave Wilkins led Angus Burke to Jake Schwartz and told that disreputable individual “to teach him as much as his basket would hold.”

Jake blinked at Angus, rolled the delectable quid in his mouth, scratched his head, and asked huskily, “Kid that shot Bates?”

Wilkins nodded.

“Goin’ to learn the trade?”

“If he can.”

“He kin,” declared Jake, narrowing his eyes. “Anybody kin learn anythin’, pervidin’ the teacher hain’t got too much patience—and I hain’t.”

“He needs a heap of teaching,” Dave said, more to himself than to Jake. “He’s five years behindhand, and he’s got to catch up…. He’s got to be stirred, Jake.”