"Did you call up Han Hicks ?" Kit nodded, looking out at the corn-crib.

The midsummer sun beat down upon it pitilessly, at the end of the lane behind the barn.
"Do you suppose he'll survive, Shad?
I'll bet a cookie it's a hundred and six inside there." "Do him good," retorted Shad.

"Probably it's the only chance he's ever had to meditate on his misdoings.

Don't you fret about him.

He's just as husky as I be, and twice as hefty.