human
Ye've slapped their faces, Tom. Mind yore eye!
gpt
They've prodded th' old mosshead once too often, growled Ridley, looking around at Johnny, Idaho, and the others.
human
I reckon this stops th' blackmail to th' gang. When I wrote my letter I expected somethin' would happen, an' th' letter I got in return near curled my hair. Twitchell's fightin' mad.
gpt
Th' reward's too big,
human
I'm fearin' it ain't big enough,
gpt
It's more than enough. There's men in this town, an' that gang, who would knife anybody for half of that. When they can get twenty-five hundred by simply openin' their mouths, without bein' known, they'll do it. Loyalty is fine to listen about, but there's few men in th' gang we're after that have any twenty-five hundred dollars' worth. This is th' beginnin' of th' end. Mark my words.
human
A lot depends on how many were in on it, suggested Johnny,
gpt
He's throwin' money away, doggedly persisted Idaho.
human
A thousand would buy any of 'em, that an' secrecy.
gpt
He ain't throwin' it away, retorted Ridley,