human
My handwriting,
gpt
How can that be?
human
I don't know how it can be, replied McGlory,
gpt
Where'd you leave the memorandum book? jested the showman impatiently;
human
Nary, I didn't. I left it in the hip pocket of my working clothes.
gpt
And Carl had on the clothes! exclaimed Matt, with a jubilant ring in his voice.
human
Carl must have scattered that trail for our benefit.
gpt
Why, he went on,
human
Well, well! muttered Burton.
gpt
Say, Matt, that Dutch chum of yours is quite a lad, after all. The idea of his thinking of that.
human
Carl always has his head with him, declared Matt.
gpt
Climb in, Joe. The left fork for ours.
human
It's a cinch, said McGlory, as he resumed his place in the tonneau,
gpt
There was a hole in the floor, explained Burton.
human
Not a very big one, but big enough for an ant-eater to get a foot through. I was going to repair the cage, but haven't had time to attend to it.
gpt
Why didn't Carl yell again? went on McGlory.
human
If he had yelled long enough, and loud enough, some one would have been bound to hear him and stop Ben Ali.
gpt
This is another case where Carl's using his head, put in Matt.
human
He's playing some dodge or other.
gpt
He's showing up a whole lot stronger than I ever imagined he could, said the cowboy.
human
I had sized him up for a two-spot at any sort of headwork. Got my opinion, I reckon, from the way those Chicago detectives fooled him.
gpt
He's not so slow as you imagine, Joe, said Matt.
human
Now keep an eye out for scraps!
gpt
We can't get into a scrap with those Hindoos any too quick to suit me,