"What's all the artillery for? You look as though you were going to start a war."
"Maybe I am. But speakin' of artillery, you're pretty well heeled yourself. Coyotes be'n killin' lambs?"
"Yes, the worst coyote on the range killed one of them yesterday and then offered to pay for it. I mean your friend Purdy."
"My friend Purdy!"
"Yes—your friend, and Dad's friend, too. If you men wouldn't tolerate such characters around—if you'd try to clean them out of the country instead of doing everything in your power to make it easy for them, they would soon be wiped out."
"But, we'd git wiped out first—an' besides they ain't all like Purdy."
"They're all criminals. They all ought to be in prison."
Cinnabar shook his head: "No, there's plenty of criminals that hadn't ought to be in prison: an' there's plenty of folks that ain't criminals that had ought to be in prison. Trouble is—the gauge ain't right that they measure 'em with."
"All men talk alike," sniffed Janet, "where's Jennie?"
"In the house, feedin' a woman the first square meal she's et in the Lord knows when."