.

ONE PUT OVER ON THE BUNCH.
"Sounds to me," volunteered the irrepressible Big Medicine after a heavy silence, "like as if you'd gone to sleep on your hawse, Little One, and dreamed that there tinkle-tinkle stuff.

By cripes, I'd like to see the bell-hawse that could walk away from ME 'nless I was asleep an' dreamin' about it.

Sounds like--" "Sounds like Navvy work," Applehead put in, eyeing the surrounding rim of sun-gilded mesa, where little brown birds fluttered in short, swift flights and chirped with exasperating cheerfulness.
"If it was anybody, it was Ramon Chavez," Luck declared with the positiveness of his firm conviction.

"By the tracks here, we're crowding up on him.