Let a man argue that somethin' he's got is better'n somethin' that another fellow's got an' he falls right in love with his own--an' goes right on fallin' in love with it.

Nothin' c'n ever change his mind after an argument." "I know a man who's been studyin' human nature," observed Rope, grinning.
"An' not wastin' his time arguin' fool questions," added Ferguson.
"You sure ain't plum greenhorn," declared Rope admiringly.
"Thank yu'," smiled Ferguson; "I wasn't lookin' to see whether you'd cut your eye-teeth either." "Well, now," remarked Rope, rising and shouldering his saddle, "you've almost convinced me that a double cinch ain't a bad saddle.

Seems to make a man plum good humored." "When a man's hungry an' right close to the place where he's goin' to feed," said Ferguson gravely, "he hadn't ought to bother his head about nothin'." "You're settin' at my right hand at the table," remarked Rope, delighted with his new friend.
Several of the men were already at the washtrough when Rope and Ferguson reached there.

The method by which they performed their ablutions was not delicate, but it was thorough.

And when the dust had been removed their faces shone with the dusky health-bloom that told of their hard, healthy method of living.