I puts the muzzle on him, sort o' p'intin' between the shoulders for gen'ral results; but when it comes to onhookin' my weepon I jest can't turn the trick.

It's too much like murder.

Meanwhile, the flyin' Yank is stampedin' along like he ain't got a thing on his mind an' never turnin' his head.
"'I calls on him to surrender.

He makes a roode remark over his shoulder at this military manoover an' pelts ahead all onabated.

Then I evolves a scheme to whack him on the head with my gun.