"The truth! Why, I can't tell anything but the truth! It's an insult to hint that I tell anything but the truth!"
"W'at relation be you ter George?"
"George who?"
"Washington."
"Sir, this attempt at frivolity is unseemly! Why should it seem remarkable for me to capture Black Harry?"
"Ef a galoot with his reputation let an onery tenderfoot like you rope him, it brings him down in my estimation complete!"
"I took him by surprise. I clapped a loaded revolver to his head, and he could do nothing but put up his hands."
"Wa'al, you might ram a loaded cannon up ag'in my head, an' then I'd shoot yer six times afore you could pull ther trigger," boasted Buckhorn. "Black Harry ain't got no license ter live arter this, an' I thinks it's ther duty o' ther citizens o' this yere town ter git tergether an' put him out o' his misery."
"That ith wight," drawled a voice that seemed to give the man from 'Rapahoe an electric shock. "The w'etch ith verwy dangerwous, and I weally hope you will hang him wight away, don't yer know. It ith dweadful to think that the cwecher might get away and stop a twain that I wath on, and wob me of awl my money—it ith thimply dweadful!"
"Great cats!" howled Buckhorn, staring in amazement at the speaker. "Is thar ary galoot hyar kin name thet critter?"