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An' we've got a little lady that rides a white mare in these here Sierras who's a sure enough angel. I don't want to know her pedigree, but when it comes to angels, she's It. An' when she an' Rifle-Eye hitches up to do the ministerin' act, you'd better believe the job's done right. I never heard but of one man that ever said 'No' to Rifle-Eye, no matter what fool thing he asked."
"You two fellers mean to expire in the arms o' ministerin' angels. Leave the demijohn with me." "What! You'd hog all the medicine? Why, Pete Holloway, I thought you was white!" "Put that demijohn down." Dan glanced at Jimmie, who was drawing on his best pants. "Say, Jimmie, we'll hev to take the medicine along. There's a plenty for Pete in the cellar." Pete slipped out of his bunk.
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