"I'm going to get off and lick that son-of-a-gun myself, just for luck," he stated dispassionately.

"I'm going to lick 'em both," he revised while he dismounted.
"Oh, come on, Cadwalloper," Weary dissuaded.

"You'll likely have all the excitement you need, without that." "Here, you hold this fool cayuse.

No." He shook his head, cutting short further protest.

"You're the boss, and you don't want to mix in, and that part is all right.