"Who are your friends?
A mess of school-boys who get lost in the hills! A gang of high-brows who can't take care of themselves off Broadway! Your friends!" The idea of meeting with any effective opposition from Fremont's boy friends was so amusing to the big fellow that he burst into a hearty laugh.
"Your friends!" he repeated.

"Ho! Ho! Baby dudes!" "About this reward," Fremont went on, resolved to keep Big Bob talking if he could, "about this blood money! You will have to cut it up into several piles, won't you ?" glancing around the file of outlaws.

"Or do you intend to cut the throats of these fellows instead of cutting up the reward?
That would be something in your line, and quite profitable." "I'll cut your throat," threatened Big Bob, "if you don't close your yawp.

Speak when you are spoken to!" "All right," replied Fremont.

"I'm spoken to now.