He's smart, but you can beat anything with thinking if you don't stop thinking.

Always the other feller stops sometimes, and then you get him.

You believe that ?" "It most generally works out that way," Lone admitted, getting another plate and cup from the cupboard, which was merely a box nailed with its bottom to the wall, and a flour sack tacked across the front for a curtain.

"Even a coyote slips up now and then, I reckon." Swan sat down, smoothing his tousled yellow hair with both hands as he did so.

"By golly, my shoulder is sore yet from carrying Brit Hunter," he remarked carelessly, flexing his muscles and grimacing a little.
Lone was pouring the coffee, and he ran Swan's cup over before he noticed what he was doing.