“Well,” said he, “if you come to simmer it down to a fine point, I was doing business that you ought to have been around here to attend to.”
“You my deperty?” flared Bloom; “have I ever asked you to help me?”
“No, Bloom; I sort of asked myself.”
“You take my advice, Cody, and keep hands off my work. You and I have come together once, and if that ever happens again, sparks are sure goin’ to fly.”
There was only the clerk in the office, apart from the scout, the trapper, and the sheriff. The spectators kept outside, confining their view of what was going on to the open door and the windows.
“Right here, then,” said Buffalo Bill, “is where the sparks begin to fly.” He turned to the trapper. “As it may get rather hot for some of the people outside, Nick,” he added, “you’d better close the door.”
“On ther jump, pard,” carolled Nomad.
The trend of affairs was vastly to his liking.
“Leave that door open!” snarled the sheriff.
Nomad’s answer was to slam the door, turn around, and put his back to it.