I’ve got a streak of male. "Quilt Arnold, is that you?" "It is, Sir," sputtered the janizary. He was plainly attired in a riding-dress and boots of the period, and wore a hanger by his side. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. I'll turn cracksman, like my father—rob old Wood—he has chests full of money, and I know where they're kept—I'll rob him, and give the swag to you, Poll—I'll—" Jack would have said more; but, losing his balance, he fell to the ground, and, when taken up, he was perfectly insensible.
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