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Updated: May 13, 2025
"I think our dog robber's been snitchin' a few." O'Malley yawned and stretched his arms over his head. They were long bony arms with huge hands attached to them. "Weren't you in Berlin before the war?" Stan asked. "Sure," O'Malley answered. "Bein' a son of good auld Ireland, I was itchin' to get into a fight an' it looked like the Jerries were the only ones preparin' to do anything."
"It would be snitchin'." "Not to me, Sam. You know I belong to you all." "But you've got new notions." "Yes," admitted Michael, "I can't help that, but I don't go back on you, do I?" "No, you don't go back on we'uns, that's so. But you don't like we's doin's." "Never mind. Tell me, Sam. I think I must know." "He kep a gamein' den " "Oh, Sam!"
I don't admit it went to my head, not so bad as that, only maybe my chest measure had swelled an inch or so, and I wouldn't say my heels wa'n't hittin' a bit hard as I strolls dignified up and down the private office. You see, Mr. Robert was snitchin' a couple of days off for the Newport regatta, and he'd sort of left me on the lid, as you might say.
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