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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Any man says I don't, you can call 'im a liar." Casey also inspected his pipe. "Bought that car off'n Kenner," Casey added boldly. Getting into trouble, he discovered, carried almost the thrill of trying to keep out of it. "Yeah?" The self-styled Jim Cassidy looked at the Ford more attentively. "And contents?" Casey snorted. "What do you know about goats, if anything?" he asked mysteriously.
Or, if stubbornness were to be the test, Casey could grin and feel secure. A little man, he reflected, can sit just as long as a big man. The big man walked leisurely up to the car and smiled as he lifted a foot to the running board. He leaned forward, his eyes going past Casey to the other man. "I kinda thought it was you, Kenner," he drawled. "How much liquor you got aboard to-night?"
He couldn't be and play the game he was playing. "Hullo! Where's your pardner?" he demanded then. "I'm in pardnerships with myself this trip," Casey retorted. He waited while Smiling Lou looked him over again, more carefully this time. "Where did you get that car?" "From Kenner for sixteen-hundred and seventeen dollars and five cents."
'And I'm always glad to go there, I says, because no matter what they're always saying about this here Bohemian stuff, Kate Kenner is one good scout, take it from me. So in a little while I slicked up some and went on around to her house. Then hitched outside I seen Eddie Pierce's hack, and I says, 'My lands! that's a funny thing, I says.
And when you met Smiling Lou well, this Kenner had decided to take no chance with you. He still had hopes of pulling you in with them, but he was far from feeling sure of you. He undoubtedly gave Smiling Lou the cue to make the thing appear an ordinary case of highjacking while he ditched his whole load so that there would be no evidence against him if he lost out and you turned nasty.
By the time the trusty brought his breakfast, Casey was applying to Mack Nolan the identical words and phrases which he had applied to young Kenner when he was the maddest. Don't ask me to tell you what they were. Jim Cassidy still clung desperately to his faith in Smiling Lou; but Casey's faith hadn't so much as a finger-hold on anything.
At last David lent him some books, and used to come in on Sundays, and in the evenings in summer, to help him read them, and that made them all greater friends than before. Well, there sat Dick at his trap, very hungry and very sleepy and very tired, and longing to hear the shout of "Kenner, kenner!" echoing along the passages.
"HE wasn't no friend of Bill Masters; the divil himself wouldn'ta owned him fer a friend!" snarled Casey, thinking of Kenner. "Me CASEY RYAN! with a load uh booze wished onto me and a car that may have been stolen fer all I know an' not a darn' nickel to my name! They can make a goat uh Casey Ryan once, but watch clost when they try it the second time!
"That's Smilin' Lou," he said. "He's a mean boy to monkey with. Talk about road hawgs he's one yuh can't outset!" "So that's the kind uh game yuh asked me to set in on!" Casey broke another long silence. He had felt in his bones that young Kenner was watching him secretly, waiting for him to take his stand for or against the proposition.
The man nodded toward the license plates on Casey's car. "Uh-huh." Casey glanced that way. "Know a man name of Kenner?" He asked abruptly. The fellow looked at Casey sidelong, without turning his head. "Some. Do you?" "Some." Casey felt that he was making headway, though it was a good deal like playing checkers with the king row wide open and only two crowned heads to defend his men.
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