"Who'll give him one?"
"We will."
"No. Not for a minute. I know Tip. I ain't locking horns with that gent."
"Whatcha afraid of? He can't do anything."
"Can't, huh? Aw right, let it go at that. Not any for me, thanks."
Again Rafe's persuasive forefinger came into action. "Say, Tip ain't any grizzly bear, feller. He's only a two-legged man like you and me. He can be put where he belongs."
The district attorney remained unconvinced. "I hear you say it."
"Ain't you got any nerve a-tall?"
"Where Tip is concerned, not much," was the frank reply. "I've seen that man in action."
"Action nothin'. That's just what's the matter with that man—not enough action. He'll go so far and no farther. He don't want anybody wiped out if he can help it. You saw what a fuss he made over Tom Walton's killing. Lord! He made me sick! You might 'a' thought Tom was a good friend of his. I tell you, Arthur, that sort of squeamishness don't get you anywhere. Nawsir. You gotta go the whole hog or you'll wind up in the calaboose. You bet I ain't for any of them half-way plans. It's kill a bull every time, or I don't shoot. Tip O'Gorman must go."