"You're just between Mealy and the diamond," was the reply.
"I said I'd eat paper, and I've done it; haven't I, gentlemen?"
"And 'spose you have!" said Mealy, "what do that 'mount to? You'll not win beef, and never did."
"Be that as it mout be, I've beat Meal 'Cotton mighty easy; and the boy you call Hiram Baugh are able to do it."
"And what do that 'mount to? Who the devil an't able to beat Meal 'Cotton! I don't make no pretense of bein' nothin' great, no how; but you always makes out as if you were gwine to keep 'em makin' crosses for you constant, and then do nothin' but 'eat paper' at last; and that's a long way from eatin' beef, 'cordin' to Meal 'Cotton's notions, as you call him."
Simon Stow was now called on.
"Oh, Lord!" exclaimed two or three: "now we have it. It'll take him as long to shoot as it would take 'Squire Dobbins to run round a track o' land."
"Good-by, boys," said Bob Martin.
"Where are you going, Bob?"
"Going to gather in my crop; I'll be back again though by the time Sime Stow shoots."