"How much?"
"We'll make it fifty dollars' fine, an' you'll have to talk to Pete Barras about the damages."
The Texan laughed derisively: "Guess again, you short horn! I've got more money than that!"
"You comin' out, or I got to go in there an' git you?"
"I ain't comin' out, an' you ain't comin' in here an' get me," defied the cowboy; "you ain't got the guts to—you an' your twenty gun-fighters to boot! Just you stick your classic profile around the corner of that wall an' I'll shoot patterns in it!"
"You can't git away. We've got yer horse!"
"If I was a posse I'd surround you an' string you up for a bunch of horse-thieves!"
"What you goin' to do about it?"
"I'm standin' pat—me. What you goin' to do?"
"Come on out, hands up, an' submit to arrest before you git in too deep."