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"Don't you make no fight?" he asked. "Fight?" said Billy, wondering. "Fight? Co'se not. Hank don't plunder me none. He jest ambles along an' helps himself, and leaves th' dust fer it every time. I jest lays low an' lets him operate. I never has no dealin's with him, understand. He jest nat'rally waltzes in an' plants his grub-hooks on what he needs. I don't know nothin' about it. I'm dead asleep."
'I must take shteps! says he, and 'I will take shteps! and when he starts in softly rubbing those awful great grub-hooks he calls hands together! . . . well! you want to look out." Lighting a cigarette he resumed reminiscently: "They were a tough crowd to handle up in the Yukon. The devil himself 'd have been scared to butt in to that 'Soapy Smith' gang; but, by gum! they were afraid of Slavin.
"Shure! we'll take thim," he said, "but" his jaw set ruthlessly "if I wanst get my grub-hooks on um . . . why! 'tis all up! carbines, or no carbines warrant or no warrant. Section thirty av th' Code covers th' warrant bizness in a case like this, anyways. Come on, thin, bhoys, saddle up! An' Lanky! yu give me a hand wid th' team! we must be getthin'!"
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