"Too bad, Billy-but what is it?" asked Skinny.

"What is it? Wha'd yu think it was, you emaciated match? Jewelry?
Cayuses? It's whisky-two simoleons' worth. Some-thin's allus wrong.
This here whole yearth's wrong, just like that cross-eyed sky pilot
said over to-"

"Will yu let up?" Yelled Red, throwing a sombrero at the grumbling
unfortunate. "Yu ask Buck where yore tanglefoot is.

"I'd shore look nice askin' th' boss if he'd rustled my whisky,
wouldn't 1? An' would yu mind throwin' somebody else's hat? I paid
twenty wheels for that eight years ago, and I don't want it mussed
none."

"Gee, yore easy! Why, Ah Sing, over at Albuquerque, gives them away
every time yu gits yore shirt washed," gravely interposed Hopalong as
he went out to cuss the cook.

"Well, what'd yu think of that?" Exclaimed Billy in an injured tone.

"Oh, yu needn't be hikin' for Albuquerque-WasheeWashee'ud charge yu
double for washin' yore shirt. Yu ought to fall in di' river some day-
then he might talk business," called Hopalong over his shoulder as he
heaved an old boot into the gallery. "Hey, yu hibernatin' son of
morphine, if yu don't git them flapjacks in here pretty sudden-like
I'll scatter yu all over di' landscape, sabe? Yu just wait till Johnny
comes!"