Lite kin might' nigh shoot the dang triggers offen their guns 'fore they kin pull, if they go t' work 'n' start anything." So Weary, leaving Lite up there grinning sheepishly over the compliment, rode down because he was told to do so by the man in command.

"You seem to forget that Lite's got a wife on his hands," he reproved as he went.
"Lite's a-comin' right now," Applehead retorted, peering at the ridge a couple of hundred yards distant.

"Git back down the draw 's fur's yuh kin b'fore yuh take out into the open agin.

I'll wait a minute 'n' see--" "Ping-NG-NG!" a bullet, striking a rock on the edge of the draw fifty feet short of the mark, glanced and went humming over the hot waste.
"Well, now, that shows they got a lookout up high, 't seen me watchin' that way.

But it's hard t' git the range shootin' down, like that," Applehead remarked, pulling his horse behind a higher part of the bank.
Close beside him Lite's rifle spoke, its little steelshod message flying straight as a homing honeybee for the spitting flash he had glimpsed up there among the rocks.