It's the only kind uh day-herding I got any use for." "I'll take the rock to my back, if you'll just slide along and make room," Thurston laughed.

"I don't hanker for a cigarette, but I do wish I had my Kodak." "Aw, t'ell with your Kodak!" Bob snorted.

"Can't yuh carry this layout in your head?
I've got a picture gallery in mine that I wouldn't trade for a farm; I don't need no Kodak in mine, thankye.

You just let this here view soak into your system, Bud, where yuh can't lose it." Thurston did.

Long after he could close his eyes and see it in every detail; the long, green slope with hundreds of cattle loitering in the rank grass-growth; the winding sweep of the river and the green, rolling hills beyond; and Bob leaning against the rock beside him, smoking luxuriously with half-closed eyes, while their horses dozed with drooping heads a rein-length away.
"Say, Bud," Bob's voice drawled sleepily, "I wisht you'd sing that Jerusalem song.