A chair stood exactly against the wall.

The parlor table--ah, appalling spectacle! the parlor table, bare and empty, held upon its surface no object of any sort whatever! "They're gone!" cried Curly, "plumb gone!" His hand instinctively reached toward his hip, and he cast a swift glance upon Bill, the parrot, who sat blinking at the edge of the table.
"All over now!" remarked Bill.

"All over! Too late! Quork!" "Rope him and throw him," urged Doc Tomlinson, "Search his person.

We got to look in his teeth." "Not necessary," said Dan Anderson.

"He hasn't got any teeth." The entire party looked with enmity at Bill, but the latter turned upon them so brave and unflinching a front that none dared question his honor.
Dan Anderson, his hands in his pockets, turned and strolled alone into the other room, and thence out of the door into the sunlight, where the twins were still continuing their unwonted industry at the chip pile.
He stood and looked at them, saying no word, but with a certain smile on his face.