And all around cattle were bawling, sheep were pleading for release, and swine lifted their piercing protests against imprisonment.
"Here we are, in Chicago!" said McCleary, who always entered the city on that side.

"Now, fellers, watch out for yourselves.

Keep your hands on your wallets and don't blow out the electric light." "Oh, you go to hell," was their jocular reply.
"We're no spring chickens." "You go up against this town, my boys, and you'll think you're just out o' the shell." Mose said nothing.

He had the indifferent air of a man who had been often to the great metropolis and knew exactly what he wished to do.
It was after twelve o'clock when the crowd of noisy cattlemen tramped into the Drovers' Home, glad of a safe ending of their trip.

They were all boisterous and all of them were liquorous except Harold, who drank little and remained silent and uncommunicative.