“We came down here to see about it,” said Porter. “It’s a —— of a note, when things like that happen, Bonnette. Them three fellers ort to be run out of the country.”
“Yea-a-ah?” The old man looked narrowly at Porter. “Why don’t yuh go ahead and do it, Porter. They’re all of age, yuh know. And there ain’t a milk drinker in the crowd; so they really wouldn’t suffer if yuh took ’em away from the cows.”
“Oh, they ain’t so —— tough,” retorted Porter. “They’re not runnin’ this country. They’ve kinda had their own way in Blue Wells for a long time, but now is the time to call a halt. We’re civilized, I’ll tell yuh that.”
“Who do yuh mean, Porter?”
“Well, all of us—ain’t we?”
“I dunno. Sometimes I wonder if we are. We ain’t savages. We don’t worship no idols, nor we don’t eat each other. Holdin’ up a train is a sign of civilization. I dunno about lockin’ a sheriff in his cell. It sure as —— ain’t old-fashioned, ’cause I never heard of it bein’ done before.”
“Well, I don’t care a ——!” snorted the sheriff. “They done it to me, and I’m sure goin’ to let ’em know that I’m sore about it.”
“Yo’re probably more interested in that than yuh are in findin’ the men who held up the train.”
“Yuh think so, do yuh?” growled Porter. “Well, I’ll tell yuh we’re plenty interested in that, too. C’mon, Scotty; we’re jist wastin’ time around here.”
“You don’t need to get mad at me,” laughed Bonnette. “I never locked up any sheriffs.”