Writing is my line. I'm going to stick
to it."
"You're a fool," barked Masters.
"That is a word I don't take from anybody," stated Banneker.
"_You_ don't take? Who the--" The raucous snarl broke into laughter, as
the other leaned abruptly forward. "Banneker," he said, "have you got
_me_ covered?"
Banneker laughed, too. Despite his brutal assumption of autocracy, it
was impossible not to like this man. "No," he answered. "I didn't expect
to be held up here. So I left my gun."
"You did a job on that pier," affirmed the other. "But you're a fool
just the same--if you'll take it with a smile."
"I'll think it over," answered Banneker, as Densmore entered.
"Come and see me at the office," invited Masters as he shambled pursily
away.
Across the dining-table Densmore said to his guest: "So the Old Boy
wants to put you up here."
"Yes."
"That means a sure election."
"But even if I could afford it, I'd get very little use of the club. You
see, I have only one day off a week."
"It is a rotten business, for sure!" said Densmore sympathetically.
"Couldn't you get on night work, so you could play afternoons?"
"Play polo?" Banneker laughed. "My means would hardly support one pony."
"That'll be all right," returned the other nonchalantly.
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