Go an' git tangled up with a two hundred and forty pound half-breed squaw an' then try to lay it onter me! When I proposed drownin' yore troubles over at Cowan's, yu went an' got mad over what yu called th' insinooation.

An' yu shore didn't look any too blamed fine, neither." "All th' same," volunteered Thompson, who had taken the edge from his appetite, "we better go over an' pay C 80 a call.

I don't like what Shorty said about saltin' our cattle.

He'll shore do it, unless I camps on th' line, which same I hain't hankerin' after." "Oh, he wouldn't stop th' cows that way, Skinny; he was only afoolin'," exclaimed Connors meekly.
"Foolin' yore gran'mother! That there bunch'll do anything if we wasn't lookin'," hotly replied Skinny.
"That's shore nuff gospel, Thomp.

They's sore fer mor'n one thing.