"Fact is, Muckluck," answered the Boy, disengaging himself with embarrassment, "my pardner here can hold up that end. Don't you think you'd better square Yukon Inua? Don't b'lieve he likes me."
And they left her, shivering in her "Holy Cross clo'es," staring after them, and sadly swinging her medal on its walrus-string.
"I don't mind sayin' I'm glad to leave Pymeut behind," said the Colonel.
"Same here."
"You're safe to get into a muss if you mix up with anything that has to do with women. That Muckluck o' yours is a minx."
"She ain't my Muckluck, and I don't believe she's a minx, not a little bit."
Not wishing to be too hard on his pardner, the Colonel added:
"I lay it all to the chaparejos myself." Then, observing his friend's marked absence of hilarity, "You're very gay in your fine fringes."
"Been a little too gay the last two or three hours."
"Well, now, I'm glad to hear you say that. I think myself we've had adventures enough right here at the start."