A yearlin' carcass, half-skinned, lay near, and the fry-pan was, full of meat.
"Howdy, strangers," says I, ridin' up.
They nodded a little, but didn't say nothin'.

My hosses fell to grazin', and I eased myself around in my saddle, and made a cigareet.
The men was tall, lank fellows, with kind of sullen faces, and sly, shifty eyes; the woman was dirty and generally mussed up.

I knowed that sort all right.

Texas was gettin' too many fences for them.
"Havin' supper ?" says I, cheerful.
One of 'em grunted "Yes" at me; and, after a while, the biggest asked me very grudgin' if I wouldn't light and eat, I told them "No," that I was travellin' in the cool of the evenin'.
"You seem to have more meat than you need, though," says I.

"I could use a little of that." "Help yourself," says they.