We'll load at Skull Valley." Sam brought his coffee and he drank it as he stood, while the men hurriedly departed for their horses.

Patches, the last to go, paused a moment, as though to speak, but Phil prevented him with a gruff order.
"Get a move on you, Patches.

Those cars will be there long before we are." And Patches, seeing the man's face dark and drawn with pain, moved away without a word.
"Great snakes," softly ejaculated Curly a few moments later, as Patches stooped to take his saddle from where it lay on the ground beside Curly's.

"What do you reckon's eatin' the boss?
Him an' the Dean couldn't 'a' mixed it last night, could they?
Do you reckon the Dean crawled him about somethin' ?" Patches shook his head with a "Search me, pardner," as he turned to his horse.
"Somethin's happened sure," muttered the other, busy with his saddle blanket.

"Sufferin' cats! but I felt like he'd poured a bucket of ice water down my neck!" He drew the cinch tight with a vigorous jerk that brought a grunt of protest from his mount.