The cowboys swept on after them with exultant whooping, firing their revolvers at the Mexican herders, who stood in a daze over their torn and mangled herd.
When Mose recovered from his stupefaction, his own horse was galloping in circles, his picket rope dragging, and the boss herder was swearing with a belated malignity which was ludicrous.

He swept together into one steady outpour all the native and alien oaths he had ever heard in a long and eventful career among profane persons.

When Mose recovered his horse and rode up to him, Jose was still swearing.

He was walking among the wounded sheep, shooting those which he considered helplessly injured.

His mouth was dry, his voice husky, and on his lips foam lay in yellow flecks.