Wild Water began to flame toward the verge of one of his notorious
Berserker rages. His hands clenched until the cheap fork in one of them
began to bend, while his blue eyes flashed warning sparks. "Now
look here, Shorty, just what do you mean? If you think anything
underhanded--"

"I mean what I mean," Shorty retorted doggedly, "an' you bet your sweet
life I don't mean anything underhanded. Overhand's the only way to do
it. You can't throw 'em any other way."

"Throw what?"

"Eggs, prunes, baseballs, anything. But Wild Water, you're makin' a
mistake. They ain't no crowd ever sat at the Opery House that'll stand
for it. Just because she's a actress is no reason you can publicly
lambaste her with hen-fruit."

For the moment it seemed that Wild Water was going to burst or have
apoplexy. He gulped down a mouthful of scalding coffee and slowly
recovered himself.

"You're in wrong, Shorty," he said with cold deliberation. "I'm
not going to throw eggs at her. Why, man," he cried, with growing
excitement, "I want to give them eggs to her, on a platter,
shirred--that's the way she likes 'em."

"I knowed I was wrong," Shorty cried generously, "I knowed you couldn't
do a low-down trick like that."

"That's all right, Shorty," Wild Water forgave him. "But let's get down
to business. You see why I want them eggs. I want 'em bad."

"Do you want 'em ninety-six hundred an' twenty dollars' worth?" Shorty
queried.

"It's a hold-up, that's what it is," Wild Water declared irately.

"It's business," Smoke retorted. "You don't think we're peddling eggs
for our health, do you?"

"Aw, listen to reason," Wild Water pleaded. "I only want a couple of
dozen. I'll give you twenty apiece for 'em. What do I want with all the
rest of them eggs? I've went years in this country without eggs, an' I
guess I can keep on managin' without 'em somehow."

"Don't get het up about it," Shorty counseled. "If you don't want 'em,
that settles it. We ain't a-forcin' 'em on you."

"But I do want 'em," Wild Water complained.

"Then you know what they'll cost you--ninety-six hundred an' twenty
dollars, an' if my figurin's wrong, I'll treat."

"But maybe they won't turn the trick," Wild Water objected. "Maybe Miss
Arral's lost her taste for eggs by this time."

"I should say Miss Arral's worth the price of the eggs," Smoke put in
quietly.

"Worth it!" Wild Water stood up in the heat of his eloquence. "She's
worth a million dollars. She's worth a