What's th' good fightin' 'mong ourselves ?" One of the light-footed soldiers turned upon him red-faced and violent.
"Yeh needn't come around here with yer preachin'.

I s'pose yeh don't approve 'a fightin' since Charley Morgan licked yeh; but I don't see what business this here is 'a yours or anybody else." "Well, it ain't," said the friend mildly.

"Still I hate t' see--" There was a tangled argument.
"Well, he--," said the two, indicating their opponent with accusative forefingers.
The huge soldier was quite purple with rage.

He pointed at the two soldiers with his great hand, extended clawlike.

"Well, they--" But during this argumentative time the desire to deal blows seemed to pass, although they said much to each other.