Wallace and Jones strolled in, and later Frank, and they all took various positions before the fire.

I saw Frank, with the quickness of a sleight-of-hand performer, slip one of the pans of dough on the chair Jones had placed by the table.

Jim did not see the action; Jones's and Wallace's backs were turned to Frank, and he did not know I was in the cabin.

The conversation continued on the subject of Jones's big bay horse, which, hobbles and all, had gotten ten miles from camp the night before.
"Better count his ribs than his tracks," said Frank, and went on talking as easily and naturally as if he had not been expecting a very entertaining situation.
But no one could ever foretell Colonel Jones's actions.

He showed every intention of seating himself in the chair, then walked over to his pack to begin searching for something or other.