Grouse. Pay Streak, have you been in the mountains five years an’ don’t know what a man means when he says he’s lookin’ fur somebody? You don’t know enough to pound sand in a rat hole.
Pay S. (Scratching his head.) Well, I don’t, ladies, an’ that’s a fact. Why cuss it! (To Flo.) Excuse me, Miss, I may haf to actooally swear afore this job’s over. But how could I know that that slick chap was lookin’ fur pard? He only said he wanted to see him.
Grouse. Well, he mustn’t.
Flo. Oh no, Mr. Rogers—I—I can’t tell you why, but they must not meet.
Pay S. (Bowing awkwardly.) Bet yer life you don’t need to tell why. When a lady says she wants a thing that’s enough fur me. I aint askin’ why. (Admiring glance at Grouse.)
Grouse. Then don’t stand like a dummy. Git a gait on an’ stop ’em afore—
Pay S. Wont I, great guns! (Gets revolver and belt from under pillow.) I’ll stop ’em if I have to take a hand in the game myself.
Flo. (Alarmed.) Oh no, Mr. Rogers! Please don’t do that!
Pay S. (Surprised.) No? Then I wont. I’ll jist argy pardner out of it; I aint much on talk, but I’m used to him.
Flo. An’ I’ll be so grateful!