I helped him into the saddle.
"I guess I'm not as bad as I talk," he remarked.
If it were so he must have revised his view of that distinction which he had been lying to achieve.

It was a curious type of vanity quite new to me then.
Young Mr.Latour fell behind me as we rode on.

The silence was broken presently by "Mr.Purvis," who said: "You can hit like the hind leg of a horse.

I never sees more speed an' gristle in a feller o' your age." "Nobody could swing the scythe and the ax as much as I have without getting some gristle, and the schoolmaster taught me how to use it," I answered.

"But there's one thing that no man ought to be conceited about." "What's that ?" "His own gristle.