Ain't you man enough to say
it instead of playing dirty little three-for-a-cent tricks--like
letting down the corral-bars?"
Reilly flung a look at Neil that plainly demanded support, and
then descended with truculent defiance from the fence.
"Who says I let down the bars? You bet I am man enough to say
what I think; and if ye think I ain't got the nerve--"
His master encouraged him with ironic derision. "That's right,
Reilly. Who's afraid? Cough it up and show York you're game."
"By thunder, I AM game. I've got a kick coming, sorr."
"Yes?" Leroy rolled and lit a cigarette, his black eyes fixed
intently on the malcontent. "Well, register it on the jump. I've
got to be off."
"That's the point." The curly-headed Neil had lounged up to his
comrade's support. "Why have you got to be off? We don't savvy
your game, cap."
"Perhaps you would like to be major-domo of this outfit, Neil?"
scoffed his chief, eying him scornfully.
"No, sir. I ain't aimin' for no such thing. But we don't like the
way things are shaping. What does all this here funny business
mean, anyhow?" His thumb jerked toward Collins, already mounted
and waiting for Leroy to join him.
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