"Put the hosses under the shed.

We'll wait." "Wait, huh!" came a harsh reply.

"Mebbe all night--an' we got nuthin' to eat." "Shut up, Moze.

Reckon you're no good for anythin' but eatin'.

Put them hosses away an' some of you rustle fire-wood in here." Low, muttered curses, then mingled with dull thuds of hoofs and strain of leather and heaves of tired horses.
Another shuffling, clinking footstep entered the cabin.
"Snake, it'd been sense to fetch a pack along," drawled this newcomer.
"Reckon so, Jim.