And here they are--the best ponies in St.Vincent--but for God's sake use 'em better'n you did that set!" The other members of the posse set to work silently changing their saddles to the new relay, and Mark Retherton tossed his answer over his shoulder to Johnny Gasney while he drew his cinch brutally tight.
"They's a pile of hoss-flesh in these parts, but they ain't more'n one Barry.

You gents can say good-bye to your hosses unless we nail him before they're run down." Johnny Gasney rubbed his red, fat forehead, perplexed.
"It's all right," he decided, "because it ain't possible the black hoss can outlast these.

But--he sure seemed full of runnin! One thing more, Mark.

You don't need to fear pressin' Barry, because he won't shoot.
He had his gun out, but I guess he don't want to run up his score any higher'n it is.

He put it back without firin' a shot.