They were knights-errant, and for all on the Ellisville trail there was but one lady.

So hopeless was the case of each that they forbore to argue among themselves.
"No broadhorn there," said Pinky Smith, after he got well, and assumed the envied position of oracle on matters at the Halfway House.

"That ain't no range stock, I want to tell you all.

What in h----l she doin' out yer I give it up, but you can mark it down she ain't no common sort." "Oh, she like enough got some beau back in the States," said another, grumblingly.
"Yes, er up to Ellis," said Pinky, sagely.

"Thet lawyer feller up there, he come down to the ranch twict when I was there, and I 'low he's shinin' round some." "Well, I dunno," said the other, argumentatively, as though to classify lawyers and cow-punchers in much the same category.
"But, pshaw!" continued Pinky.