"You got me sized up right. I'm worse than a helldodger, a whole lot worse." The words were playful, but the tone was sardonic.
Bull grunted.
"You tell me, will you, just where it was you met this Bill Smith-Jack
Harpe feller, and what it was he did? There's a company in it, too.
What company is it—the Northern Pacific?"
"Ah-h, you got a gall, you have," sneered Bull, savagely. "Think you'll make something out of Harpe yore own self, huh?"
"That is my idea," admitted Racey.
"Well, you got a gall, thassall I gotta say."
"You forget you've got a gall, too, when you try to bushwhack me,"
Racey reminded him. "I'm trying to play even for that."
"Try away."
"You seem to make it hard for me kind of," grinned Racey.
"Of course I'd enjoy makin' it easy for you all I could," observed
Bull with sarcasm.