You ain't making any hit with me at all.

_Scat!"_ "All right fer you!" Hank grumbled, in the futile repartee of the stupid.

"You think you're smart, but I don't.

You wait!" Then he rode away down the trail, glowering at the world through puffy lids and repeating to himself many crushing things he wished he had thought to say to Jack.
Jack himself had recourse to a small bottle of iodine left there by a predecessor, painting his scratches liberally, and grinning at himself in the little mirror because Hank had not once landed a bruising blow on his face.

After that he washed the dishes and went to the spring for a bucket of fresh water, whistling all the way.