A fight--anything that had action in it.

But the revolution, boiling intermittently over there, did not so much as float a wisp of steam in his direction.
He wished that he had not "hung up" on Mary V before he had told her a few things.

He couldn't see why she didn't leave him alone.

The Lord knew he was willing to leave _her_ alone.
A few days more of that he had before he saw a living soul.

Then a Mexican youth came wandering in on a scrawny pony that seemed to have its heart set on drinking the creek dry, before his rider could drink it all.
Johnny watched the boy lie down on the flat of his lean stomach with his face to the sluggish stream, and drink as if he, too, were trying to cheat the pony.