Under His Thumb — page 63: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

o4 UNDER HIS THUMB. other. Then the rough stranger uttered a bull-dog gsrowl. ‘Pretty fine, aint ye!” he exclaimed. ‘Rather fine, to be sure. But we average all right, don’t we?’ Croly returned, purposely assuming an effeminate tone. “What yer mean by that—hey?’’ with another bull-dog growl. is mean that you will never be hung for civility, sir.’ The ruffian half rose to his feet, clenching his big, hairy hands. ‘““Yer mean it?’’ he demanded. “I mean it.’’ ‘“D’ye know who I am?’’ ‘‘T haven’t the least idea.’’ ‘‘1’m Bill Leary.’’ ‘Quite a name, to be sure.’ ‘‘And I don’t take sass from any dude with eye- acaas, I don’t.’’ “What do you do in such a case?’’ ‘Tl chokes their wind off !’’ _Croly betrayed not the least trace of alarm or other emotion. He tipped his head backward a It- tle and significantly drew his fingers across the lo- cality where the windpipe is supposed to exist. Then he said: ‘“‘T don’t believe you could do that thing to me.” ‘Don’t ye, eh?’’ ‘‘T really do not.’’ ‘Cause why?” ‘““T shouldn’t let you. That is why.’ Croly’s boldness astounded the burly ruffian, who ~, had evidently been drinking just enough to make © _him quarrelsome. comicbooks.co