"O, that's just a starter," announced Slavin. "Keep your eye on Slump for a minute."
Ike had fallen across the sofa. He was moaning-and half-stunned. He kept moving his hand over his bare and tingling gums, making a horrible, hollow, hissing sound every time his breath exuded.
"The dentist for you," said Slavin in cold unconcern. "This one is delegated to the hospital, I guess."
The speaker approached the prostrate Bemis.
"Speak up, there," growled Slavin savagely. "I've a little business with you, Mort Bemis. Where are those two silver medals that you stole from me?"
Bemis only wriggled and groaned. Slavin kicked him. He sat up with a howl of pain.
"Pawned," he whimpered.
"Where?"
"At Barry's cigar store."
"For how much?"
"Two dollars."
"Hand it over."
"I haven't a cent. Oh, you've half killed me. Oh, my head! my head! Don't—don't hit me again. Slump has some money. Pay him, Ike, pay him."
Slavin advanced from Bemis, now sitting up
