I've said so, an' they're down on me already." As Jake talked the night fell, and the boy's hair began to stir.

A wolf was "yapping" on a swell, and a far-off heron was uttering his booming cry.

Over the ridges, which cut sharply into the fleckless dull-yellow sky, lay unknown lands out of which almost any variety of fierce marauder might ride.

Surely this was the wild country of which he had read, where men could talk so glibly of murder and violent death.
"When I moved in here three years ago," continued Jake, "they met me and told me to get out.

I told 'em I weren't takin' a back track that year.
One night they rode down a-whoopin' and a-shoutin', and I natcherly poked my gun out'n the winder and handed out a few to 'em--an' they rode off.