"In that event," Pinkey mimicked, "he's more'n likely to run you off, unless you got the sand to fight fer it. That's what I meant in my telegram."
"Oh," said Wallie, enlightened. "'Sand' and—er—intestines are synonymous terms in your vernacular?"
Pinkey stared at him.
"Say, feller, you'll have to learn to sling the buckskin before we can understand each other. Anyhow, as I was sayin', you got a good proposition in this 160 if you can hold it."
"If I am within my rights I shall adhere to them at all hazards," declared Wallie, firmly. "At first, however, I shall use moral suasion."
"Can't you say things plainer?" Pinkey demanded, crossly. "Why don't you talk United States? You sound like a Fifth Reader. If you mean you aim to argue with him, he'll knock you down with a neck-yoke while you're gittin' started."
"In that event, if he attempted violence, I should use my pistol—my 'gat'—and stop him."
"In that event," Pinkey relished the expression, "in that event I shall carry a shovel along to bury you."
Riding a horse from the livery stable and accompanied by Pinkey driving two pack-horses ahead of him, Wallie left the Prouty House shortly after noon, followed by comments of a jocular nature from the bystanders.
"How far is it?" inquired Wallie, who was riding his English saddle and "posting."