"An' do what we say, or get your head cracked.

Out you go, now.

Out the door with you.

Better tell that coon to stick right alongside you." "Doc., won't you let me talk a moment ?" Daughtry begged of Emory.
"The time for talking is past," was the reply.

"This is the time for segregation .-- Doctor Masters, don't forget that ambulance when you're quit of the load." So the procession, led by the board-of-heath doctor and the sergeant, and brought up in the rear by the policemen with their protectively extended clubs, started through the doorway.
Whirling about on the threshold, at the imminent risk of having his skull cracked, Dag Daughtry called back: "Doc! My dog! You know 'm." "I'll get him for you," Doctor Emory consented quickly.