As the dog sprang, the Friar upper-cut him in the throat with his left hand and when he straightened up, hit him over the heart with his right. He says that a dog’s heart is poorly protected. Anything ’at didn’t have steel over it was poorly protected when the Friar struck with his right in earnest. The dog was killed. One o’ the dogs the pony had kicked was also killed, but the other four was able to get up and crawl away.
The Friar shook himself and went on to where Ty Jones and a few of his men were standin’. “That’s a nice lively bunch o’ dogs you have,” sez he, smilin’ as pleasant as usual; “but they need trainin’.”
“They suit me all right,” growls Ty, “except that they’re too blame clumsy.”
The Friar looked at him a minute, and then said drily, “Yes, that’s what I said; they need trainin’.”
Ty Jones scowled: “They don’t get practice enough,” sez he. “It’s most generally known that I ain’t a-hankerin’ for company; so folks don’t usually come here, unless they’re sure of a welcome.”
“I can well believe you,” said the Friar, laughin’, “and I hope the next time I come I’ll be sure of a welcome.”
“It’s not likely,” sez Ty shortly.
The Friar just stood and looked at him curiously. He didn’t believe that Ty could really mean it. The’ wasn’t a streak of anything in his own make-up to throw light on a human actin’ the way ’at Ty Jones acted; so he just stood and examined him. Ty stared back with a sneer on his face, and I’m sorry I couldn’t have been there to see ’em eyein’ each other.
“Do you really mean,” sez the Friar at last, “that you hate your fellow humans so, that you’d drive a perfect stranger away from your door?”
“I haven’t any use for hoss-thieves,” sez Ty.