"I ain't none so shore. He's bad plumb through, Blakely is. An' he's a killer, by his eyes. I guess it was just the extra shade he wanted, an' the extra shade wasn't there. You'd 'a' got him, Tom."
"Shore! But don't yuh make no mistake about Blakely bein' a coward. He ain't. He's seen trouble, an' seen it in the smoke."
"You mean Skinner Jack. Well, Jack wasn't slow with a gun, but the other two was Injuns, an' they only had Winchesters, an' Blakely he had a Sharp's. So yuh can't tally the war-whoops. An' I did hear how Skinner Jack was drunk when he called Blakely a liar."
"I doubt it. Skinner could always hold his red-eye. More likely his gun caught."
"Anyway, Tommy, you'd better not go cavortin' about on the skyline too plenteous. It wouldn't bother Blakely none to bushwhack yuh."
"Oh, he wouldn't do that. He ain't the bushwhackin' kind."
"Oh, ain't he? Now just because he ain't never done nothin' like that, it don't prove he won't. He's got a killer's eyes, I tell yuh, an' drillin' yuh would tickle him to death. Yuh run a blazer on him, an' he quit cold. Other gents seen the play. He won't never forget that. He'll down yuh on the square, or what looks like an even break, if he can. But if he can't he'll down yuh anyway."
"Rustlers ramblin' over yore way any?" inquired Loudon in a meaning tone.
Johnny Ramsay struck his saddle-horn a resounding thwack with his open palm.
"If we could only get him that way!" he exclaimed. "But he's slicker'n axle-grease."