There ain't ary yowl to be got outa that hole no more.
Come, kitty-kitty-kitty!" Luck threw out his hands despairingly, and then laughed.

Applehead's tender solicitude for his cat was a fixed characteristic of the man, and Luck knew there was no profit in argument upon the subject.

He began unloading the lighter pieces of baggage while the boys fed the livery teams.

The others came straggling down from the house, lighting their after-dinner cigarettes and glancing curiously at the adobe out-buildings which were so different from anything in Montana.

The sagebrush slopes wore a comfortable air of familiarity, even though the boys were more accustomed to bunch grass; but an adobe stable was a novelty.
Fast as they came near him, Luck put them to work.