“Joe’s turnin’ out to be a humdinger.”
Nebrasky spat dryly and expounded—“Yuh never can tell which way a dill-pickle will squirt.”
“Five ’r no five—I hope he gits away,” said Leach.
“I thought there was somethin’ funny about him bein’ in such a hurry to git away,” said Slim.
“And you know yo’re a ⸺ liar, Slim,” said Lonnie.
“Yeah, I know it,” agreed Slim.
“Might as well go home, I s’pose,” observed Nebrasky.
“Yeah, and right here and now I want to proclaim,” said Lonnie, “there ain’t goin’ to be no drawin’ straws and all that kinda stuff; sabe? I don’t care a ⸺ which one of you two pelicans decide to break the news at the Flyin’ H, but I want yuh to know it ain’t goin’ to be little Lonnie. By ⸺, I’ve broke all the news I’m goin’ to today!”
“I guess we better not say anythin’ to ’em a-tall,” decided Nebrasky. “It ain’t no settled fact.”
“Shore—jist let it kinda drift,” agreed Leach.