"Yes, and when I stop, too."
"Strains you to answer a civil question, I see."
The old man turned in his saddle and jogged along facing the fellow, and some distance was covered before either of them spoke. "Are you trying to raise a row with me?" Gid asked. "I want to know for if you are I can save you a good deal of time and trouble."
"Sort of a time-saver," said Mayo.
"Yes, when I'm not a recruiter for eternity."
"I don't believe I follow you."
"Wish you would, or ride on ahead. Now look here," he added, "I just about know you when I see you, and as I don't make friends half as fast as I do enemies—in other words, as I am able to grasp a man's bad points quicker than I can catch his good ones—I would advise you not to experiment with me. You haven't come back here for the benefit of the community, and if we were not the most easy-going people in the world, we'd hang you and then speculate leisurely as to what might have been your aim in coming here."
Mayo grunted. He was a tall, big, stoop-shouldered fellow. He rode with his knees drawn up. He had a sort of "ducking" head, and his chin was long and pointed. He grunted and replied: "I guess this is a free country or at least it ought to be."
"Yes," Gid rejoined, still facing him, "but it won't be altogether free for such as you until the penitentiaries are abolished."
"Oh, I understand you, Mr. Batts. You are trying to work up a chance to kill me."