"LaFrance wants to bleed you for two hundred. Don't you. He 'll get too rich to have me for a son-in-law."
Karl nodded his head. "Farming iss goot," he murmured, "—mit vasser." Dave glanced at him.
"Them new steers o' th' Double Y oughta fetch forty in th' Fall. Will, too."
"Farming iss goot," repeated Karl, "—mit vasser. Also, to lend money. But Camerons, dey pay und der money lies idle. Ven do ve eat up der Double Y, Dave?"
Dave glanced at him sullenly. "Why don't you let me kill that d—n Peters? Are you afraid I 'll get hurt?"
"Alvays I fear. I haf no one bud you, du Spitzbub. But kill him? Ach! Soon anoder manager come. Killing iss not goot, Dave. You must plan besser, aber I do id. Dat make you feel sheep, du Schwarzer Spitzbub, vas?"
"I 'll get 'em. Guinea Mike 's shot up."
"Vell, he iss anoder von likes killing. Who vas id?"
"Stranger. Reminded me of a feller, somehow—an' then, again, he did n't. Deals a slick hand at cards."
"Ach, cards! Alvays der cards! Who know dem besser as me? Who pay for dem so much? Cards und killing, dey are no goot."