But they can't git him now--not if I can help it.

A better cook never throwed dishwater over a guy-rope than that same old Mose, but--" He stopped and looked at Ford hesitantly.
"Say! I hate like the deuce to tie a string on you as soon as you hit the ranch, Ford, but--if you've got anything along, you won't spring it on Mose, will you?
A fellow's got to watch him pretty close, or--" "I haven't got a drop." Ford's tone was reprehensibly regretful.
"You do look as if you'd put it all under your belt," Mason retorted dryly.

"Left anything behind ?" "Some spoiled beauties, and a nice new jail that was built by my admiring townspeople, with my name carved over the door.

I didn't stay for the dedication services.

Sunset was getting all fussed up over me and I thought I'd give them a chance to settle their nerves; loss of sleep sure plays hell with folks when their nerves are getting frazzly." He smiled disarmingly at Mason.
"I'd kinda lost track of you, Ches, till I got your letter.