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I see one of 'em eyin' that rifle o'your'n pretty sharp, and he didn't like the look of it much: I could see that."

Alvin jumps up and shakes him hearty by the mitt. "Allow me to offer you a cigarette, Sir," says he. "Much obliged," says Swifty, eyin' the thin silver case with the gold linin'. "Gee! what a swell box!" "Do you fancy it?" says Alvin. "Then it is yours, with my best compliments." "Ah-r-r-r chee, no!" protests Swifty. "Please, as a favor to me," insists Alvin, pushin' the case into his hand.

"I could see 'em eyin' you over when they first came in, and I could see that they didn't exactly like the looks of 'em. It would wear off in time, but it takes time for it to wear off; and it had to go pretty rusty for a start-off. Well, I don't know as it makes much difference to you, does it?" "Oh, I thought we got along very well," said Bartley, with a careless yawn.

So no one down there, you see, knows who's eyin' them. We don't need any lookout, hangin' round the street-front and tippin' us off. Our man down below sizes up everyone who comes into that shop. If he's all right, the button's touched, and the white light flashes, and he gets through. If he's not, the cigar clerk rings another button, just under his counter, and we know what to do.