"Come over here," commanded the Boss of Tortilla range.
"It's closer from you to me than from me to you."
"Yo 're some sassy, now ain't you? I 've got a notion to drop you an' save somebody else th' job."
"He 'll be lucky if you do, 'cause when that gent drifts along I 'm natchurally goin' to get there first. It's been tried already."
Anger glinted in the Boss's eyes, but slowly faded as a grim smile fought its way into view. "I 've a mind to give you a job just for th' great pleasure of bustin' yore spirit."
"If yo 're bettin' on that card you wants to have a copper handy," bantered Jimmy. "It's awful fatal when it's played to win."
"What's yore name, you cub?"
"Elijah—ain't I done prophesied? When do I start punchin' yore eight cows, Boss?"
"Right now! I like yore infernal gall; an' there's a pleasant time comin' when I starts again' that spirit."
