Over the peaks the fogs were growing thicker and darker and after a while the sharp edge of the wind was wet with rain.

It stung their faces, and they drew their hat brims lower and their coat collars higher to protect themselves from such a cutting blast.
"Told you we might have trouble," called Petty, cheerfully, "but if you ride right on through trouble you'll leave trouble behind.

Nor this ain't nothin' either to what we kin expect before we git to the top of the pass.

Cur'us what a pow'ful lot human bein's kin stand when they make up their minds to it." "Are the horses well shod ?" asked Whitley.
"Best shod in the world, 'cause I done it myself.

That's my trade, blacksmith, an' I'm a good one if I do say it.