me that av ye can."

The driver passed over the tobacco sack and, stopping his team for
another rest, rolled a cigarette for himself. "That's easy," he
said. "This here is Jefferson Worth's outfit. He wanted me to start
home this morning, so he got me off. I don't know how he done it;
mostly nobody knows how Jefferson Worth does things. There was a man
with him who knowed you and, as I was some disinclined to leave you
under the circumstances, Mr. Worth fixed it up for you, too, then we
all jest throwed you in and fetched you along. Mr. Worth with the
other man and his kid are comin' on in a buckboard. They'll catch up
with us where we camp to-night. I don't mind sayin' that I plumb
admired your spirit and action and--sizin' up that police bunch--I
could see your talents would sure be wasted in that San Felipe
country for some time to come. There'll be plenty of room in Rubio
City for you, leastwise 'till you draw your pay again. If you don't
like the accommodations you're gettin' I reckon you'd better make
good your talk back there and we'll see whether you takes this
outfit back to San Felipe or I takes her on to Rubio City."

The Irishman spat emphatically over the wheel. "An' 'tis a gintleman
wid proper instincts ye are, though, as a rule, I howld ut impolite
to carry a gun. But afther all, 'tis a matter av opinion an' I'm
free to admit that there are occasions. Anyhow ye handle ut wid
grace an' intilligence. An', fists er shticks, er knives, er guns,
that's the thing that marks the man. 'Tis not Patrick Mooney that'll
fault a gintleman for ways that he can't help owin' to his improper
bringin' up. Av ye don't mind, will ye tell me fwhat they call ye?
I'll not be so indelicate as to ax yer name. Fwhat they call ye will
be enough."