The shade of them walnut trees at the home ranch, or the Pot-Hook-S front porch, an' a nice easy rockin' chair with fat cushions, or mebby the buckboard onct in a while, with Kitty to do the drivin'-- Say, this has sure been some little ol' rodeo, ain't it?
I ain't got a hoss in my string that can more'n stand up, an' honest to God, Patches, I'm jest corns all over.

How's your saddle feel, this mornin' ?" "It's got corns, too," admitted Patches.

"But there's Phil; we'd better be riding." All that day Phil kept to himself, speaking to his companions only when speech could not be avoided, and then with the fewest possible words.
That night, he left the company as soon as he had finished his supper, and went off somewhere alone, and Patches heard him finding his bed, long after the other members of the outfit were sound asleep.

And the following day, through the trying work of loading the cattle, the young foreman was so little like himself that, had it not been that his men were nearly all old-time, boyhood friends who had known him all his life, there would surely have been a mutiny.
It was late in the afternoon, when the last reluctant steer was prodded and pushed up the timbered runway from the pens, and crowded into the car.

Curly and Bob were going with the cattle train.