BINGISM
Both boys lived breathlessly through a magnificent moment.
"Leave me have it!" gasped Penrod. "Leave me have hold of it!"
"You wait a minute!" Sam protested, in a whisper. "I want to show
you how I do."
"No; you let me show you how _I_ do!" Penrod insisted; and they
scuffled for possession.
"Look out!" Sam whispered warningly. "It might go off."
"Then you better leave me have it!" And Penrod, victorious and
flushed, stepped back, the weapon in his grasp. "Here," he said,
"this is the way I do: You be a crook; and suppose you got a
dagger, and I--"
"I don't want any dagger," Sam protested, advancing. "I want that
revolaver. It's my father's revolaver, ain't it?"
"Well, WAIT a minute, can't you? I got a right to show you the
way I DO, first, haven't I?" Penrod began an improvisation on the
spot. "Say I'm comin' along after dark like this--look, Sam! And
say you try to make a jump at me--"
"I won't!" Sam declined this role impatiently. "I guess it ain't
YOUR father's revolaver, is it?"
"Well, it may be your father's but it ain't yours," Penrod
argued, becoming logical.
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