"Just in a general way, what happens to folks that lie to you deliberate, when you meet 'em again?
I'd like," he added, "to know about how sorry to feel for that baggage humper when you see him--after meeting the Flying U bunch." The soul of Luck Lindsay was singing an impromptu doxology, but the face of him--so well was that face trained to do his bidding--became tinged with disgust and disappointment.

With two "real boys" he was talking; he knew them by the unconscious range vernacular and the perfect candor with which they lied to him about themselves.

But not so much as a gleam of the eye betrayed to them that he knew.
"So that's why he went off grinning so wide," he mused aloud.

"I was sure caught then with my gun at home on the piano.

I might have known better than to look for the real thing here, though you fellows have a few little marks that haven't worn off yet." "Me?
Why, I'm a farmer, and I'm married, and I'm in a deuce of a stew because my spuds is drying up on me and no way to get water on 'em without I carry it to 'em in a jug," disclaimed Andy Green hastily.