"And now for you, my fine fellow," said the brigand, turning toward
Barney. "Peter says you ain't worth nothing to him--alive, but that
your dead body will fetch us a hundred thousand marks."
"Rather cheap for a king, isn't it?" was Barney's only comment.
"That's what Herman tells him," replied Yellow Franz. "But he's a
close one, Peter is, and so it was that or nothing."
"When are you going to pull off this little--er--ah--royal demise?"
asked Barney.
"If you mean when am I going to kill you," replied the bandit, "why,
there ain't no particular rush about it. I'm a tender-hearted chap,
I am. I never should have been in this business at all, but here I
be, and as there ain't nobody that can do a better job of the kind
than me, or do it so painlessly, why I just got to do it myself, and
that's all there is to it. But, as I says, there ain't no great
rush. If you want to pray, why, go ahead and pray. I'll wait for
you."
"I don't remember," said Barney, "when I have met so generous a
party as you, my friend. Your self-sacrificing magnanimity quite
overpowers me. It reminds me of another unloved Robin Hood whom I
once met. It was in front of Burket's coal-yard on Ella Street, back
in dear old Beatrice, at some unchristian hour of the night.
"After he had relieved me of a dollar and forty cents he remarked:
'I gotta good mind to kick yer slats in fer not havin' more of de
cush on yeh; but I'm feelin' so good about de last guy I stuck up
I'll let youse off dis time.
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