Whilst my hands seemed carelessly crossed on the horn, my right was
really closed on the gun.
"I like to see a man back his advice," says I. "It's your move. Don't
any other gentleman get restless with his hands, or I'll make our
Christian brother into a collection of holes. Now, you ill-mannered
brute," I says, "I don't care what your business is: it's my business
to see that you give me civil answers to civil questions."
He shrunk some. He was too durned important, anyhow, that feller.
"Quick!" says I. "Lord of the Mormon hosts! Do you think I'm going to
yappee with you all day? Nice morning, ain't it? Say 'yes.'"
"Yes," says he.
"I thought so," says I. "It's a raw deal when a man that's sat a horse
as long as me can't say howdy on the open, without havin' a pup like
you bark at him."
"Why," says he, feelin' distressed, "I didn't mean to make no bad play
at you." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the prisoner,
who sat like a white stone. "That's it. Misplaced horse. Got him
with the goods."
"Oh!" says I. "Well, 'twouldn't have done no harm to mention that
first place. I wasn't noticing you particular, till you got too much
alive for any man of my size to stand." I dropped my gun. "Excuse
haste and a bad pen," says I; "but why don't I draw cards? Both
parents were light complected and I've voted several times. How is it,
boys?"
"Sure!" says they.
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