"There ain’t no cops around this place, you mutt," contradicted the Watermelon with the delicate courtesy of the road. "There’s a sheriff—" "Sheriffs," interrupted James coldly, "ain’t never around until the job’s done." "Sunday," added the Watermelon, from knowledge gained by past experience, "is the best time to swipe anything. No one is lookin’ for trouble that day and so they don’t find it, see?" "Sure," agreed James. "Every one’s feelin’ warm and good and stuffed, and when yer feel good yerself, yer won’t believe any one is bad. You know how it is, Mike. When yer feelin’ comfortable, yer can’t understand why the devil we ain’t comfortable." "Well, why the devil ain’t yer?" demanded Mike. "I ain’t takin’ all the shade er all the earth, am I? Lie down and be quiet. What do yer want a beauty show for?" "Aw, stow it!" snapped the Watermelon. "Yes, I’ll stow it all right when we’re all sent to the jug. I tell yer I ain’t fit to work. The last time I got pinched, I pretty near croaked. I wasn’t made to work." "We ain’t going to get pinched," said James. "You make more talk over two suits of clothes—" "It ain’t the clothes. It’s the damn fool notion of swipin’ ’em and then comin’ right back here, and not makin’ no get-away—" "This hang-out is more than four miles from the burg, you galoot," sneered the Watermelon. "No one would think of coppin’ us here. They’ll go to the next town, or else watch the railroads—" "But they might—" "Might what? Might be bloomin’ fools like you." "Where are you goin’ to be shaved?" "In a barber shop," said James mildly. "You probably favor a lawn-mower, but personally I prefer a barber." "Yes," wailed Mike, "go to a barber shop and let every guy in town get his lamps on yer—" "You’re gettin’ old, Mike, me boy, and losin’ yer nerve," said James. He stretched and yawned. "Well, I’m off before church time or the barbers will be closed. Remember, Mike, this afternoon, between four and five." He pulled his clothes into place, adjusted his hat at the most becoming angle and started up the narrow woodland path, whistling gaily through his teeth. As he disappeared among the trees, the far-off sound of church bells stole to them on the quiet of the Sabbath morning. *CHAPTER II* *A CLOSE SHAVE*