"Get it off and sit down right there.

The boys are about through with the mail and supper's ready." Winston glanced at the steaming dishes hungrily, for he had passed most of the day in the bitter frost, eating very little, and there was still a drive of twenty miles before him.
"It is time I was taking the trail," he said.
He was sensible of a pain in his left side, which, as other men have discovered, not infrequently follows enforced abstinence from food, but he remembered what he wanted the half-dollar in his pocket for.

The hotel-keeper had possibly some notion of the state of affairs, for he laughed a little.
"You've got to sit down," he said.

"Now, after the way you fixed me up when I stopped at your ranch, you don't figure I'd let you go before you had some supper with me ?" Winston may have been unduly sensitive, but he shook his head.

"You're very good, but it's a long ride, and I'm going now," he said.
"Good-night, Nettie." He turned as he spoke, with the swift decision that was habitual with him, and when he went out the girl glanced at her father reproachfully.
"You always get spoiling things when you put your hand in," she said.
"Now that man's hungry, and I'd have fixed it so he'd have got his supper if you had left it to me." The hotel-keeper laughed a little.