"Drive on with your cheap baggage, pardner." "Cheap baggage, are we ?" mused Tom, when the wagon had left Bad Pete some two hundred feet to the rear.

"My, but I feel properly humiliated!" "How many men has Bad Pete killed ?" inquired Harry in an awed voice.
"Don't know as he ever killed any," replied the Colorado boy, "but I'm not looking for trouble with any man that always carries a revolver at his belt and goes around looking for someone to give him an excuse to shoot.

The pistol might go off, even by accident." "Are there many like Mr.Peter Bad in these hills nowadays ?" Tom inquired.
"You'll find the foothills back near Denver or Pueblo," replied the Colorado youth coldly "You're up in the mountains now." "Well, are there many like Peter Bad in these mountains ?" Tom amended.
"Not many," admitted their driver.

"The old breed is passing.
You see, in these days, we have the railroad, public schools, newspapers, the telegraph, electric light, courts and the other things that go with civilization." "The old days of romance are going by," sighed Harry Hazelton.
"Do you call murder romantic ?" Reade demanded.

"Harry, you came west expecting to find the Colorado of the dime novels.