Every feller fer himself an' mercy to-ward none! I knowed what it meant when I shook with yuh, young feller, and I hold ye to it.

I hold ye to it! You lay low if I tell ye to lay low, and we'll make us a few dollars, mebby.

C'm on and git that horse outa here b'fore somebuddy comes.

It's mail day." He waved Bud toward his saddle and took himself off in a shuffling kind of trot.

By the time Bud had saddled Smoky grandpa hailed him cautiously from the brush-fringe beyond the corral.