Jim-Bo put his gun back on the rack. "Ail right, Bandershanks," he said, "do you want to hear some fiddlin' music! How 'bout it, will y'all play some for Bandershanks?"
"Sure. We need practice, anyhow. Eh, Hi?"
"Huh? What'd you say, Casey?"
"Let's practice a little for Saturday night and play a tune or so for Bandershanks. She don't never hear dancing music."
"Suits me." Hi-Pockets turned down a page in his magazine and slid it under his chair. "Jim-Bo, go get us the guitar and fiddle outta the side room."
"You've got legs!"
"I've done pulled off my boots."
"And I reckon your little bittie tootsies might get cold walking from here to the side room and back!"
"Boys!"
"I'll get them."