"Was shore thinkin' thet same," said the other man.

"An', say, didn't thet last shot sound too sharp fer Somers's forty-five ?" "Come to think of it, I reckon it did," replied Greaves.
"Wal, I'll go around over thar an' see." The dark form of the rustler slipped out of sight over the embankment.
"Better go slow an' careful," warned Greaves.

"An' only go close enough to call Somers....

Mebbe thet damn half-breed Isbel is comin' some Injun on us." Jean heard the soft swish of footsteps through wet grass.

Then all was still.