"However, can you tell us the way to the camp ?" From one pocket Bad Pete produced a cigarette paper and from another tobacco.

Slowly he rolled and lighted a cigarette, in the meantime seeming hardly aware of the existence of the tenderfeet.

At last, however, he turned to the Colorado boy and observed: "Pardner, I reckon you'd better drive on with these tenderfeet before I drop them over the cliff.

They spoil the view.

Ye know where Bandy's Gulch is ?" "Sure," nodded the Colorado boy.
"Ye'll find the railroad outfit jest about a mile west o' there, camped close to the main trail." "I'm sure obliged to you," nodded the Colorado boy, stepping up to his seat and gathering in the reins.
"And so are we, sir," added Tom politely.
"Hold your blizzard in until I ask ye to talk," retorted Bad Pete haughtily.