I think I oughta tell ya. I never shot anybody before. One helluva time to tell me. They transfer the heavy payroll bags to a white mule, identified with a brand from the mine. In a small Bolivian village while they sit down to eat on an open patio, the stable boy recognizes the mule's brand and alerts the Bolivian constabulary.
Bullets strike their table and they scramble for cover.
This place gets no more of my business. The fearsome gunfire from all directions wounds both of them. And you were all mouth. I got a great idea where we should go next. I don't want to hear it.