"We kinda thought we ought to build our shacks first." "You can pick you out some when the train gets in," said the agent, accepting a match from Weary.

"There's a carload of--" He pulled in his head hurriedly and laid supple fingers on the telegraph key to answer a call, and the Happy Family moved down to the other end of the platform where there was more shade.
The agent presently appeared pushing the truck of outgoing express, a cheap trunk and a basket "telescope" belonging to one of the hotel girls--who had quit her job and was sitting now inside waiting for the train and seeing what she could of the Flying U boys through the window--and the mail sack.

He placed the truck where the baggage car would come to a halt, stood for a minute looking down the track where a smudge of smoke might at any moment be expected to show itself over the low ridge of a hill, glanced at the lazy group in the patch of shade and went back into the office.
"There's her smoke," Cal Emmett announced in the midst of an apathetic silence.
Weary looked up from whittling a notch in the end of a platform plank and closed his jack-knife languidly.
Andy pushed his hat backward and then tilted it forward over one eyebrow and threw away his cigarette.
"Wonder if Florence Grace will be riding point on the bunch ?" he speculated aloud.

"If she is, I'm liable to have my hands full.

Florence Grace will sure be sore when she finds out how I got into the game." "Aw, I betche there ain't no such a person," said Happy Jack, doubter to the last.
"I wish there wasn't," sighed Andy.