"We hain't goin' to kill yuh.

We'll make yuh wisht, by cripes, we had, though, b'fore we git through.

Git to work, boys, 'n' gether up some dry grass an' sticks.
Over there in them rose-bushes you oughta find enough bresh.

We'll give him a taste uh what we was talkin' about comm' over, by cripes! I guess he'll be willin' to drive sheep, all right, when we git through with him.

Haw-haw-haw-w-w!" He leaned forward in the saddle and ogled the bug-killer with horrid significance.
"Git busy with that bresh!" he yelled authoritatively, when a glance showed him that the Happy Family was hesitating and eyeing him uncertainly.