"I can't help that, can I? If some 88 sport tries to ventilate me an' Telescope we can't wait for you fellahs. So that's the how of it. You an' Chuck slide up to the Flyin' M, an' when yuh come back yuh'll find Telescope an' me waitin' for yuh at the Cross-in-a-box. See?"
"Oh, I see all right," grunted Chuck Morgan. "I see yo're a hawg, Tom. All yuh need is bristles. Tell yuh what, send Johnny, an' let me stay with you. Don't need two fellers to carry one little message."
"Not on yore life!" cried the indignant Johnny. "Send Chuck by himself. I don't wanna go. I never did like the climate up on the Dogsoldier nohow. It ain't healthy, an' it'll make me sick or somethin'. An' I ain't a-goin' to risk my valuable health for no man. No, sir, little Johnny Ramsay ain't goin' to."
"When yuh see Scotty," said Loudon, totally unmindful of Johnny's tirade, "tell him to bring four or five o' the boys from the Bend besides the reg'lar outfit. He'll want to leave a couple at the ranch. With us four that'll be fifteen or sixteen men."
"We're elected all right, Chuck," said Johnny, mournfully.
"An' don't get rambunctious an' ride through Farewell," pursued Loudon. "Ride round it—ride 'way round it."
"An' be sure an' wrap up our tootsies good an' warm every night," contributed Chuck Morgan.
"An' take our soothin' sirup before each meal," added Johnny Ramsay. "Lend us yore teethin' ring, Tom. I done forgot mine, an' I'm plumb shore that careless infant, Chuck, has lost his."