"Beat it!" he screamed. "Get to hell out o' this afore I lose my temper an' pull the triggers."
"Triggers?" queried Jim coolly.
"Aye, triggers! Two of 'em—an' both standin' at full-cock."
"What number shot, if you don't object to my asking?"
"Number two, dang ye! An' my fingers is twitchin'!"
"All right! Pass out my baggage and I'll go."
"Baggage? Ye got no baggage here!"
"Boxes, bags, trunks, and so on."
"Ye got nothin' in this house! Clear out or I'll be the death o' ye!"
"So you've turned my stuff out, have you? Well, that'll save time. Where did you put it?"