"What I dislike about you, Cowan, is that you are never able to forget that you're a mucker.

I wish you'd try," he continued wearily, "it's so monotonous." Cowan was silent an instant; then laughed uncertainly.
"I suppose you fancy you're a wit, Baker," he said, "but I think you're mighty tiresome." "Don't let it trouble you," was the calm reply.

Some one laughed drowsily.

Then there was silence save for the sound of the horses' feet, the complaining of the well-worn hack and the occasional voice of the driver outside on the box.

Neil began to feel rather drowsy himself; the motion was lulling, and now that they had crossed the railroad-track and reached the turnpike along the river, the carriage traveled smoothly.