human
Barras'll have to get him a new lookin' glass, he opined, as he shook the slivers from his hat brim.
gpt
The war's on--an' she's a beaut! If ol' Santa Anna was here, him an' I could lick the world! This red licker sure is gettin' to my head--stayed off of it too long--but I'm makin' up for lost time. Whoopee!
human
Oh, I'm a Texas cowboy, Far away from home, If I ever get back to Texas I never more will roam.
gpt
Hey, in there!
human
There ain't no hay in here! What do you think this is, a cow's hotel? The livery barn's next door!
gpt
They ain't no outlaw goin' to run Timber City while I'm marshal!
human
Put 'er here, pardner! answered the Texan.
gpt
You run Timber City an' I'll run the Red Front! Come on in an' buy a drink, so I can get my change!
human
You're arrested fer disturbin' the peace!
gpt
Come an' get me, then. But come a-shootin'!
human
You can't git away with it. I got twenty men here, an' everyone packin' a gun!
gpt
You've got me, then, mocked the Texan.
human
I've only got two guns. Run 'em in in a bunch. I can only take care of a dozen, an' the rest can get me before I can reload.
gpt
Yer kickin' up an awful stink fer a dollar an' four bits.
human
You ain't helpin' yer case none by raisin' a rookus like this. Come out an' give yerself up. All there is agin you is a fine an' a little damages.
gpt
How much?
human
We'll make it fifty dollars' fine, an' you'll have to talk to Pete Barras about the damages.
gpt
Guess again, you short horn! I've got more money than that!
human
You comin' out, or I got to go in there an' git you?
gpt
I ain't comin' out, an' you ain't comin' in here an' get me, defied the cowboy;
human
You can't git away. We've got yer horse!
gpt
If I was a posse I'd surround you an' string you up for a bunch of horse-thieves!
human
What you goin' to do about it?
gpt
I'm standin' pat--me. What you goin' to do?
human
Come on out, hands up, an' submit to arrest before you git in too deep.
gpt
There ain't a marshal in Montana can arrest me!
human
What's yer name?
gpt
Hydrophobia B. Tarantula! I'm a curly wolf! I can't be handled 'cause I'm full of quills! I've got seventeen rattles an' a button, an' I'm right now coiled!
human
Yer drunk as hell, growled the marshal,
gpt
You're goin' to miss some sleep waitin', 'cause there's seventeen quarts in sight, without countin' the barrel goods an' beer.