Caddy Buddy books

He wondered with what credit to himself his
own heart, foot, and face would meet his punishment; for this was his
evening. He thought it must be nearly eight o'clock.
Opposite his own in the two rows of cells was the cage of Bonifacio, the
Sicilian slayer of his betrothed and of two officers who came to arrest
him. With him Murray had played checkers many a long hour, each calling
his move to his unseen opponent across the corridor.
Bonifacio's great booming voice with its indestructible singing quality
called out:
"Eh, Meestro Murray; how you feel--all-a right--yes?"
"All right, Bonifacio," said Murray steadily, as he allowed the ant to
crawl upon the envelope and then dumped it gently on the stone floor.
"Dat's good-a, Meestro Murray. Men like us, we must-a die like-a men. My
time come nex'-a week. All-a right. Remember, Meestro Murray, I beat-a
you dat las' game of de check. Maybe we play again some-a time. I don'-a
know. Maybe we have to call-a de move damn-a loud to play de check where
dey goin' send us.


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