“Not at all, 'Mexico,' not at all. Good thing; but they say the doctor's got the boys rather away from you, that you're losing your grip.”
“Who says?”
“Oh, I hear it everywhere.”
“Guess it must be right, then,” replied “Mexico,” grimly.
“And they say he's got a line on you, 'Mexico,' getting you right up to the mourners' bench.”
“Do, eh?”
“Look here, 'Mexico,'” said McKenty, dropping his bantering tone, “you're not going to let the blank preacher-doctor combination work you, are you?”
“Don't know about that.”
“You don't?”
“No. But I do know that there ain't any other combination kin. I'm working for myself in this game. If any combination wants to shove my way, they can jump in. They'll quit when it don't pay to shove, I guess. Me the same. You fellers ain't any interest in me, I reckon.”