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too sure of you ... yet ... because you were a cadet. Oh, we know," as Hanlon started to protest hotly, "all about your being kicked out. We can see how all that might well have soured you enough so you will really do anything you can to get ahead, even if only to show the Corps. But you can understand our hesitation, I think." "Of course, sir. But you needn't worry." He made his voice as bitter and hard as he could. "I've had my fill of all that law and order stuff. I was an innocent young punk, full of high ideals and the romance of the Corps and all that bunk. But those mangy slime-snakes knocked all that out of me. Anything I can do that'll give 'em a kick in the teeth I'll do with joy and gusto!" "Fine words," snapped the leader, "but can you take it if the going gets tough?" Hanlon was learning fast. Now he stared straight back into those hard eyes. "Can you dish it out, Mister?" his tone was almost, but not quite, insolent. Chapter 11 A black look suffused the leader's face at Hanlon's impertinent "can you dish it out, Mister?" He half-rose from his seat, while the other four men reached quick hands towards their weapons. Then slowly the man sank back, relaxed, and smiled--an open, friendly smile of genuine cordiality, and his men also relaxed. "You'll do, Hanlon, by the great ... uh ... Zeus, you'll do! But," he added significantly, "I think you will find that I can 'dish it out', as you call it, if the need ever arises. You had better pray it never does." "Fair enough," Hanlon shrugged indifferently. "The boys will take you out and show you the town, if you like," the leader smiled engagingly. "They will get word to you when I have a job ready, which may be in a day or two." Hanlon thanked him, and felt it policy to go out with "the boys," even though he did not particularly care to do so. Nor did he especially enjoy the night that followed. He had left a ten o'clock call with the hotel's visiphone operator when he got back to the hotel at last. When she called he groggily opened one eye half way, and fumbled for the toggle-switch. "H'lo." "Ten o'clock of a fine morning, Mr. Hanlon." "Oh, no!" he groaned. "Oh, yes," she giggled. "That bad, is it?" "Worse'n that. But thanks anyway ... I guess." She was laughing heartily as she disconnected. Hanlon groaned with the utter misery of a hugely-distorted, throbbing head. The sunlight pouring through an open window
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