But they'll keep.

We'll stick round camp; and you stay as late as you can, stranger, and we'll stir up something.

I'll tell you what, Bill--we'll pull off that shootin' match you was blowin' about." The tall man favored Johnson with a confidential wink.

"Bill, he allows he can shoot right peart.

Bill's from California." Bill, the short man, produced a gray-and-yellow tobacco sack and extracted a greasy ten-dollar greenback, which he placed on the box table at Johnson's elbow.
"Cover that, durn you! You hold stakes, stranger.