I hadn't been brought up to appreciate that kind of joke.

I meant to earn my living, but I did not mean to get out and slave for Perry Potter.

There must be something respectable for a man to do in this country besides ranch work.
In the morning we started off, with my trunks in the wagon, toward the line of purple hills in the south.

Frosty Miller told me, when I asked him, that they were forty-eight miles away, that they marked the Missouri River, and that we would stop there overnight.

That, if I remember, was about the extent of our conversation that day.