“Well there's only six of us here, but there's six more that we can get blamed quick if we need 'em. It's so, all right.”
“Well, coming down to figures, there's eight here, with two hoss-wranglers an' a cook to come,” retorted Hopalong, kicking the belligerent Johnny on the shins. “We're just about mad enough to tackle anything: ever feel that way?”
“Oh, no use getting all het up,” rejoined Cranky Joe. “We ain't a-going to fight 'less we has to. Better pay up.”
“Send yore bills to the ranch—if they're O. K., Buck'll pay 'em.”
“Nix; I take it when I can get it.”
“I ain't got no money with me that I can spare.”
“Then you can leave enough cows to buy back again.”
“I'm not going to pay you one damned cent, an' the only cows I'll leave are the dead ones—an' if I could take them with me I'd do it. An' I'm not going around the fence, neither.”
“Oh, yes; you are. An' yo're going to pay,” snapped Cranky Joe.
“Take it out of the price of two hundred dead cows an' gimme what's left,” Hopalong retorted. “It'll cost you nine of them twelve men to pry it out'n me.”