"Shucks, Tusk, that ole thing's been fixed up way back at home," Hewlet evasively replied.
"It ain't fixed up when he comes down heah an' buhns me out, I reckon!"
"Naw, I reckon not," the other had to admit. "What you goin' to do?"
"What you reckon I'm goin' to do?" Tusk growled.
"Look-ee-heah," Tom exclaimed, having a sudden inspiration. "You help me on somethin' fu'st, an' then we'll have money to git moh guns, if yoh're a mind to start somethin'!"
"How you mean?" Tusk cautiously asked.
"The railroad feller owes me a hund'ed dollars—I wouldn't be s'prised if it was moh, but a hund'ed'll do to start on. Now don't ask no questions! It don't consarn nobody but him an' me. You git it for me, an' I'll help you with that Dawson bird. You know the McElroy feller, don't you?"
"I've saw him hangin' 'round; but I can't go over there," Tusk grumbled. "Didn't I jest tell you Dawson buhned me out? Why don't you go?"
"Tusk, a gentl'man don't like to be askin' another gentl'man to pay him back a little friendly loan. You don't know that, 'cause you ain't got real good sense, Tusk, but it's so. 'Sides that, some business dealin's has to go through a third party. That's how he done when he made Dawson buhn you out, didn't he?"
"When he what?" Tusk glared.