"You don't put no such stuff as this over, I tell you!" he shouted in
his hot, nasal voice. "This here's a free country, and you call yourself
a debating society, do you? Lemme tell you _I_ belong to a debating
society in Chicago, where I come from, and them fellas up there, they'd
think they'd oughta be shot fer a fake like what you people are
tryin' to put over, here, to-night. I come down here to git some more
education, and pay fer it, too, in good hard money I've made sweatin'
in a machine shop up there in Chicago; but if _this_ is the kind of
education I'm a-gunna git, I better go on back there. You call this a
square debate, do you?"
He advanced toward the chairman's platform, shaking a frantic fist.
"Well, if you do, you got another think comin', my capitalis' frien'!
you went and give out the question whether it's right fer Choimuny to go
through Belgium; and what do you do fer the Choimun side? You pick out
this here big stiff"--he waved his passionate hand at the paralyzed
Ramsey--"you pick out a boob like that for the Choimun side, a poor fish
that gits stagefright so bad he don't know whether he's talkin' or dead;
or else he fakes it; because he's a speaker so bum it looks more to me
like he was faking.
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