Lee Haines talked on--about a porphyry dyke somewhere to the north--a ledge to be found in the space of ten thousand square miles--a list of vague clues--an appeal for Barry to help them find it--and Barry was held listening though ever seeming to drift, or about to drift, towards the door.

Black Bart lay facing his master, and his snaky head followed every movement.

Kate sat where the firelight barely touched on her, and in her arms she held Joan, whose face and great bright eyes were turned towards Daddy Dan.
All things in the room centered on the place where the man sat by the wall, and the sense of something impending swept over Gregg; then a wild fear--did they know the danger outside?
He must make conversation; he turned to Kate, but at the same moment the voice of Buck Daniels beside him, close.
"I know how you feel, old man.

I remember an old bay hoss of mine, a Morgan hoss, and when he died I grieved for near onto a year, mostly.

He wasn't much of a hoss to look at, too long coupled, you'd say, and his legs was short, but he got about like a coyote and when he sat down on a rope you couldn't budge him with a team of Percherons.