I breathed
regularly and heavily, with an occasional moaning snore. But if those
two hippopotamus Bisons had been alone on their native plains they
couldn't have cared less. They bellowed, and pawed the earth, and
threw their shoes around, and yawned, and stretched and discussed
their plans for the next day, and reviewed all their doings of that
day. Then one of them said something about turning in, and I was so
happy I forgot to snore. Just then another key clanged at the door, in
walked a fat man in a brown suit and a brown derby, and stuff was
off."
"That," said Emma McChesney, "would be Ed Meyers, of the Strauss Sans-
silk Skirt Company."
"None other than our hero." Jock's tone had an added acidity. "It took
those four about two minutes to get acquainted. In three minutes they
had told their real names, and it turned out that Meyers belonged to
an organization that was a second cousin of the Bisons. In five
minutes they had got together a deck and a pile of chips and were
shirt-sleeving it around a game of pinochle.
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