human
Yit, said he,
gpt
I've got to march just as far as any of you, carry just as big a gun, and do just as much shootin'.
human
You're wrong, said the medical-minded Alf Russell.
gpt
You ought to have less than the others, because you're smaller. The littler and younger the person the smaller the dose, always.
human
No, acceded the farmer Jim Humphreys.
gpt
Tain't natural, nor right. You don't give a colt as much feed as you do a grown horse. Anybody knows that.
human
Pete's plea is sound, contraverted the legal-minded Monty Scruggs.
gpt
All men are equal before the law, though they mayn't be a foot high. Rations are a matter of law, and the law's no respecter of persons.
human
Rations is intended, persisted Alf,
gpt
All o' you are always imposin' on me 'cause I'm little, whimpered Pete.
human
And that stuck-up Alf Russell's the worst of all. Just because he's goin' to be a doctor, and leads in singin' at church, he thinks he knows more'n the man what writ the arithmetic, and he's down on me because I won't take all he says for law and gospel, in spite of his airs. Jim Humphreys is down on me, because I writ home that I'd shot a man back there at the burnt bridge, and Jim got skeered at a coon-huntin' nigger.
gpt
Never mind, Pete, said Monty consolingly,
human
Who'll you make, you brindle steer?
gpt
Stand back, Alf; he meant me, said Jim, disposing his meat, and approaching Monty with doubled fists.
human
Now, Mister Scruggs, le's see you do some makin', since you're so brash.
gpt
Go ahead, there, and divide them rations, as I ordered you, and be quick about it, for we must hurry off.
human
Now, said Si,