"Sit down," invited Mr. Connors, pushing a chunk of air out of the
way with his guns. The last two felt a desire to talk and to argue the
case on its merits, but refrained as the black holes in Mr. Connors'
guns hinted at eruption. "Every time yu opens yore mouths yu gets
closer to th' Great Divide," enlightened that person, and they were
childlike in their belief.
Mr. Travennes acted as though he would like to scratch his thigh
where his Colt's chafed him, but postponed the event and listened to
Mr. Cassidy, who was asking questions.
"Where's our cayuses, General?"
Mr. Travennes replied that he didn't know. He was worried, for he
feared that his captor didn't have a secure hold on the hammer of the
ubiquitous Colt's.
"Where's my cayuse?" Persisted Mr. Cassidy.
"I don't know, but I wants to ask yu how yu got mine," replied Mr.
Travennes.
"Yu tell me how mine got out an' I'll tell yu how yourn got in,"
countered Mr. Cassidy.
Mr. Connors added another to his collection before the captain
replied.
"Out in this country people get in trouble when they're found with
other folks' cayuses," Mr. Travennes suggested.
Mr. Cassidy looked interested and replied: "Yu shore ought to borrow
some experience, an' there's lots floating around. More than one man
has smoked in a powder mill, an' th' number of them planted who looked
in th' muzzle of a empty gun is scandalous.
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