THIS noonday as I sat on the veranda two young lads stopped by the stone coping which borders this front yard, and conversed. One was eager-looking and about eleven years old. The other was perhaps thirteen and morose and he had a small rifle which he polished with a bit of waste, not lifting his gaze as they talked.
Said the younger boy: 'Say-Frank, I could 'a' had that old shot-gun off my dad if I'd' a' went after it to Rocker that time.'
'Like hell you could,' said Frank.
'Say-Frank, you know that Winchester o' Billy O'Rourke's?—he made six bull's-eyes and one inside ring with it day 'fore yesterday.'
'Like hell he did,' said Frank.
'Say-Frank, Mexicans and Indians can get a guy ev'ry time with a long-distance rifle without taking aim through the sight.'
'Like hell they can,' said Frank.
'Say-Frank, there's a kid down on South Arizona that's got a Colt automatic that'll hit without him aiming at all.'
'Like hell there is,' said Frank.
'Say-Frank, you know them little brass machine-guns the militia's got?—the bores o' them things 're
