human
P. G.
gpt
There's a devil's nest of Tories gathering in Howell's house tonight to cut our throats, said I coldly.
human
Should we take them with ten men, or call in the Continentals?
gpt
Who be they?
human
The old pack--Cadys, Helmers, Bowman, Weed, Grinnis. They are ten rifles.
gpt
This is a domestic business, said I.
human
Shall we wash our bloody linen for the world to see what filth chokes Fonda's Bush?
gpt
No, said he, slowly, with that faint flare in his eyes I had seen at times,