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Cullum, Ridgwell, [pseud.], 1867-1943

"The Forfeit"

He was
seeking information. It was what he and Jeff had come for. The manner
of this man was coldly callous, and he knew that every word he uttered
was a lash applied to the bruised soul of the man by the window.
Irresistible sympathy made him turn about.
"Here's your lager, Jeff," he said, in his easiest fashion. He had no
desire that Ju should be made aware of the trouble that Jeff was
laboring under.
Jeff replied at once. His readiness and even cheerfulness of manner
surprised Bud. But it relieved him as well.
"Bully!" he cried, as he came back to the bar. "I was just gettin' a
look around at the--city." He turned to Ju with his shadowy smile
which almost broke Bud's heart. "Quite a place, eh?"
"Place? Wal, it's got points I allow. So's hell ef you kin look at it
right." Ju lit a cigar and hid nearly half of it in his capacious
mouth. "I'd say," he went on, with a certain satisfaction, "ther's
more mush-headed souses in this lay out to the square yard than I've
ever heard tell of in any other city.


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