human
Arms! arms! he panted.
gpt
Rifles, automatics, anything. A pick, two picks. C'mon.
human
C'mon, can't you? he pleaded.
gpt
It's the yellow men, the dirty little yellow men. They've got an infernal machine for cutting out the pay dirt in blocks. They've looted Mine No. 1 while we slept. That was the earth-tremble. C'mon, can't you? Bring rifles! Anything. We'll get them yet!