His voice, when he spoke, was unequivocally frightened.
Thurston sat up and wiped a handful of mud off his face; if it had not been so dark Bob would have shouted at the spectacle.

"I'm 'kinda sorter shuck up like,"' he quoted ruefully.

"And my nose is skinned, thank you.
Where's that devil of a horse ?" Bob stood over him and grinned.

"My, I'm surprised at yuh, Bud! What would your Sunday-school teacher say if she heard yuh?
Anyway, yuh ain't got any call to cuss Sunfish; he ain't to blame.

He's used to fellows that can ride." "Shut up!" Thurston commanded inelegantly.