“An’ he slammed yer round?”
“Yep.”
“This yar dood did?”
“Yep,” sheepishly admitted the younger brother.
“Yer must bin dreamin’!”
“No; he done it, Sam.”
“An’ he allows he kin fight?”
“He does.”
“Why, he wouldn’t be a bite fer me. Look hyar, ef you can’t handle that yar lily-faced chap, yer ain’t no brother o’ mine. I reckoned yer was goin’ ter put me up ag’in somethin’ what wuz wuth tacklin’.”
Sam Hooker seemed to be on the point of turning about and leaving, much to the relief of Ephraim and the local stage manager.