Clarence E. Mulford

“ Th' next gent that wants a drink will be observed bendin' over th' trapdoor an' fillin' it for hisself. Here's how! An' d—n th' beer what only comes in dreams."
Gates crawled out of his bunk and limped to the bucket. "Get out of my way," he growled. "Speakin' of beer started my throat to raspin'. No you don't; not a-tall," he grumbled, pushing the cook aside. "I'll wait on myself, slugs or no slugs. I ain't no teethin' infant, even if I am full of holes." He crossed to the trapdoor and fumbled around in the dark. "Huh! I knowed it couldn't get far away. I've been kneelin' on it all th' time!" ”

“ Purdy leaned his rifle against the wall and groped for the water bucket. "I'll make a try for that extra case of cartridges right now, if you say th' word," he offered. "Huh! We shore drink a lot of water," he grunted. "I filled this pail before sundown, an' it's near empty now. Too much bacon, I reckon."
Quigley laughed softly. "Water is one thing we don't have to worry about at all. ”

“ A feller does a lot of thinkin' when he can't sleep. We made a couple of mistakes, holin' up like this. In th' first place, if we had to hole up, we should 'a' occupied both end houses, 'stead of only one. This way, they can walk right up to within twenty feet of us, use th' cook shack, th' grub in th' store-house, an' them store-house loopholes, which is worse. If we had both end houses, two men in each, they couldn't get anywhere close to us except along th' crick an' up on th' cliff."
"Yes; I reckon so," said Quigley. ”