The master, here, put it down." Whereupon I read the terms of Bill's bluff.
There was a chorus of very hearty approvals of Bill's course in "not taking any water" from that variously characterized "outfit." But the responsibility of the situation began to dawn upon them when some one asked: "How are you going about it, Bill ?" "Well," drawled Bill, with a touch of sarcasm in his voice, "there's that pinto." "Pinto be blanked!" said young Hill.

"Say, boys, is that little girl going to lose that one pony of hers to help out her friend The Pilot?
Good fellow, too, he is! We know he's the right sort." [Chorus of, "Not by a long sight; not much; we'll put up the stuff! Pinto!"] "Then," went on Bill, even more slowly, "there's The Pilot; he's going for to ante up a month's pay; 'taint much, o' course--twenty-eight a month and grub himself.

He might make it two," he added, thoughtfully.
But Bill's proposal was scorned with contemptuous groans.

"Twenty-eight a month and grub himself o' course ain't much for a man to save money out ov to eddicate himself." Bill continued, as if thinking aloud, "O' course he's got his mother at home, but she can't make much more than her own livin', but she might help him some." This was altogether too much for the crowd.

They consigned Bill and his plans to unutterable depths of woe.
"O' course," Bill explained, "it's jest as you boys feel about it.