"Write as I dictate," he cried, placing a pen in the jailer's hand and a pistol to his ear. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences. " McClintock without further speech strode toward his bungalow; and half an hour later Spurlock, passing, heard the piano-tuning key at work. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. I want to put myself into your hands. "Aha! my lad!" he cried without appearing to regard the pain of the wound; "now I'll show you no quarter.
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