Certain of them had spent the afternoon in the neighborhood shooting birds and rabbits.
Solomon got Jack to bed early and sat for a time in their room tinkering with the pistols.

When the locks were working "right," as he put it, he polished their grips and barrels.
"Now I reckon they'll speak out when ye pull the trigger," he said to Jack.

"An' yer eyesight 'll skate erlong easy on the top o' them bar'ls." "It's a miserable kind of business," said the young man, who was lying in bed and looking at his friend.

"We Americans have a rather hard time of it, I say.

Life is a fight from beginning to end.