'An' why not?' asks Bill.
"'Because I won't let you,' says the soopercilious gent, a-bitin' off a piece of tobacco. 'This is my camp, an' force'ble invasions by casooal hold-ups like you, don't preevail with me a little bit. I resents the introosion on my privacy.'
"'But I'll have to sleep on these yere plains,' says Bill a heap plaintif.
"'Thar's better sports than you-all slept on them plains,' says the soopercilious gent.
"Meanwhile, thar's a move or two, speshully the way he bats his eyes, about this soopercilious gent that sets Bill to rummagin' 'round in his mem'ry. At last he asks:
"'Is your name Rawlins?'
"'Yes, sir, my name's Rawlins,' says the soopercilious gent.
"'Jim Rawlins of Roanoke?'
"'Jim Rawlins of Roanoke;' an' the soopercilious gent reaches inside the door of the dugout, searches forth a rifle an' pumps a cartridge into the bar'l.
"'Stan' your hand, Jim!' says Bill, at the same time slidin' to the ground with the hoss between him an' his relatif; 'don't get impetyoous. I'm your brother Bill.'