Come on along and see--damn him! How was I to know? He was a new one. He never peeped in rehearsal. How was I to know he was going to yap when we arranged the set behind you?""You've raised hell," the manager of the theatre greeted Davis, as the latter, trailed by Dick Bell, came upon Michael bristling from between the legs of the stage-hand.
"Nothing to what I'm going to raise," Davis retorted, shortening his grip on the iron bar and raising it. "I'm going to kill 'm.
I'm going to beat the life out of him. You just watch."Michael snarled acknowledgment of the threat, crouched to spring, and kept his eyes on the iron weapon.
"I just guess you ain't goin' to do anything of the sort," the stage-hand assured Davis.
"It's my property," the latter asserted with an air of legal convincingness.
"And against it I'm goin' to stack up my common sense," was the stage-hand's reply. "You tap him once, and see what you'll get.
Dogs is dogs, and men is men, but I'm damned if I know what you are. You can't pull off rough stuff on that dog. First time he was on a stage in his life, after being starved and thirsted for two days. Oh, I know, Mr. Manager.""If you kill the dog it'll cost you a dollar to the garbage man to get rid of the carcass," the manager took up.