“I crave to know,” said Horse-Collar seriously. “Yes sir, I ahnos’ deman’ to know. Don’t keep me in shuspense.”
“We came here to liberate Jimmy Moran.”
“My God! We did? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! That was yesserday.”
“That was t’day.”
“My, my! Thasso? How time does fly. Was it only t’day that we had the battle? Don’ tell me. Where’s Wind River Jim?”
“Roarin’ came and got him long time ago.”
“Can that be possible? Ain’t Roarin’ Rigby dead? Ain’t he? My, my, I mus’ practise up. Shay! Let’s me and you go down and c’ngratulate Roarin’. He’s lucky. As shoon as the bartender dechides that it’s his turn, we’ll have one more li’l’ snifter and then go down to shee Roarin’.”
“I’d do that just to get you jiggers out of here,” said the bartender. “But if you ask me, I’d tell you to go easy on Roarin’ Rigby. He’ll salivate both of you.”
“Yesh, he will not!” snorted Horse-Collar. “He’ll eat out of my good right hand, tha’s what, eh, Lovely?”
“Oh, pos’tively; well, here’s a stiff rope and a short drop, bartender. May you eat well on your last mornin’.”