"And if he don't fall over himself doin' it, why--by cripes--we'll take off his shoes!" Whereupon the bug-killer gave another howl and professed himself eager to drive the sheep--well, what he said was that he would drive them to that place which ladies dislike to hear mentioned, if the Happy Family wanted him to.
"That's all right, then.

Start 'em south, and don't quit till somebody tells you to." Weary carefully let down the hammer of his six-shooter and shoved it thankfully into his scabbard.
"Now, you don't want to pile it on quite so thick, next time," Irish admonished Big Medicine, when they turned away from watching the bug-killer set his dogs to work by gestures and a shouted word or two.
"You like to have sent this one plumb nutty." "I betche Bud gets us all pinched for that," grumbled Happy Jack.
"Torturing folks is purty darned serious business.

You might as well shoot 'em up decent and be done with it." "Haw-haw-haw-w-w!" Big Medicine ogled the group mirthfully.

"Nobody can't swear I done a thing, or said a thing.

All I said definite was that I'd take off his shoes.