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Updated: May 17, 2025
"That I'd been found in the big holler oak wi' my throat cut," nodded the Tinker. "But what did he mean by it?" "Why, y' see," explained the Tinker, leaning over to turn a frizzling bacon-rasher very dexterously with the blade of a jack-knife, "y' see, 'Gabbing' Dick is oncommon fond of murders, hangings, sooicides, and such like it's just a way he's got." "A very unpleasant way!" said I.
Thought it was one of these here sooicides, or some one that had had well, a drop too much." He eyed me curiously. I dare say I looked, in my hatless and drenched condition, as if I might come under the latter category. "It's all right," I answered, forcing a laugh. "I wasn't meditating a plunge in the river.
"Bill, ole feller," said Trotter, in tones of conciliation, and Bill wagged again. "'Ell, I can't make nothing of it," confessed Trotter blankly. "Must have gone sort o' temp'ry insane, like the sooicides. But well, we'll be even with 'im before all's over." And the lean Signor's sidelong look at the dog was full of menace.
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