Say Cash, that colt's just about all in.

Cora's nothing but a bag of bones, too.
They'll never winter--not on this range, they won't." Cash got up and went to the doorway, looking out over Bud's shoulder at the spiritless donkeys trailing in to water.

Beyond them the desert baked in its rim of hot, treeless hills.

Above them the sky glared a brassy blue with never a could.

Over a low ridge came Monte and Pete, walking with heads drooping.