I can't think very well.

But I believe I'd rather be taken off by rustlers." Lassiter sat down, put his head in his hands, and remained for a few moments in what appeared to be deep and painful thought.

When he lifted his face it was haggard, lined, cold as sculptured marble.
"I'll go.

I only mentioned that chance of my not comin' back.

I'm pretty sure to come." "Need you risk so much?
Must you fight more?
Haven't you shed enough blood ?" "I'd like to tell you why I'm goin'," he continued, in coldness he had seldom used to her.