“I’m comin’,” says Sol. “For gosh sakes give me a little time.”
Sol Vane looked like a hardware store when he made that first trip. I never seen so many guns outside the army. He lays ’em in the street and then goes back for more. It took him four trips to bring ’em.
“Now what?” he whines.
“Have ’em all come down, one at a time,” says Hashknife, and then he yells over at me: “Watch ’em, Sleepy. If they look like they’re holdin’ out on us, don’t give ’em a chance.”
“I’m particular,” I yells back. “Send ’em down, Mr. Lawyer.”
Then they begins to file out and down the stairs. Sol lines ’em up in the street, and they sure are a sore crowd. Finally they quit coming.
“Is that all?” asks Hashknife.
“That’s all of ’em,” says Sol.
I starts to get up, but Buddy grabs me by the belt and yanks so hard that we both went over backwards. With his heels in the air, Buddy yelps—
“Mitch Ames and Cale Ames ain’t out yet!”