Happy Jack with a bullet hole through one side of him was still Happy Jack.
"Aw, quit your beefin'," Big Medicine advised gruffly.

"A feller with a hole in his lung yuh could throw a calf through sideways ain't got no business statin' his views on nothin', by cripes!" "Aw gwan.

I thought you said--it didn't amount t' nothin'," Happy reminded him, anxiety stealing into his face.
"Well, it don't.

May lay yuh up a day or two; wouldn't be su'prised if yuh had to stay on the bed-ground two or three meals.

But look at Slim, here.