They'se rale
shootin' in Kentucky, an' whin it begins ivrybody takes a hand. 'Tis th'
on'y safe way. If ye thry to be an onlooker an' what they calls a non-
combatant 'tis pretty sure ye'll be taken home to ye'er fam'ly lookin'
like a cribbage-boord. So th' thing f'r ye to do is to be wan iv th'
shooters ye'ersilf, load up ye'er gun an' whale away f'r th' honor iv
ye'er counthry."
"'Tis a disgrace," said Mr. Hennessy. "Where were th' polis?"
"This was not th' place f'r a polisman," said Mr. Dooley. "I suspict
though, fr'm me knowledge iv th' kind iv man that uses firear-rms that
if some wan'd had th' prisence iv mind to sing out 'They'se a man at th'
bar that offers to buy dhrinks f'r th' crowd,' they'd be less casu'lties
fr'm bullets, though they might be enough people kilt in th' r-rush to
even it up. But whin I read about these social affairs in Kentucky, I
sometimes wish some spool cotton salesman fr'm Matsachoosets, who'd be
sure to get kilt whin th' shootin' begun, wud go down there with a
baseball bat an' begin tappin' th' gallant gintlemen on th' head befure
breakfast an' in silf definse. I'll bet ye he'd have thim jumpin'
through thransoms in less thin two minyits, f'r ye can put this down as
thrue fr'm wan that's seen manny a shootin', that a man, barrin' he's a
polisman, on'y dhraws a gun whin he's dhrunk or afraid.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142