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You gotta give th’ kid credit for havin’ it in him. He kept on goin’ after he came to some——Walked till that patrol picked him up. I’d say he sure had him a run of pure solid luck! There wasn’t much pawin’ an’ bellerin’ left in him when Muller’s boys brought him to town. Been gittin’ a little of it back, though, seems like. But maybe this here will learn him a little hoss sense—"
"Get along, Farley, that’s enough," Muller broke in. Drew picked up the plate and forced himself to spoon up its contents. The stuff was still warm and not too bad. After the second spoonful he discovered that he was hungry—that much he would not have to pretend. "Kid!" Sergeant Muller’s bulk shut most of the lantern glow out of the cell. "You young squirts’re all alike—never take no advice.
Muller’s roar brought silence. Drew could actually hear the panting breaths of the men now. "Mitchell, what happened here?" Muller turned to the man at his far right. The trooper was younger than the rest, his face still holding something of a boyish roundness.
On the other hand Muller’s advice had been good; it would be dangerous to antagonize the officer. "I had nothing to do with those stolen horses. We found them, yes, but they were already in the canyon. And there were two men guardin’ them—up on the ridge. They must have cleared out when your patrol rode in, but they were there the night before." "You saw them?" "No, our scout did."
Blue blouses—a corporal’s guard of troopers—were pulling up by the cantina hitch rail as Drew came out into the plaza. Muller’s men probably, he thought. But now he was more intent on Anse’s needs. Few people had ever broken through the crust of self-sufficiency the Kentuckian had begun to grow in early childhood.
In Max Müller’s “History of Ancient Sanskrit Literature” it is argued strongly that the Vedas were not written at first, but were transmitted orally, being learned by heart in the great religious schools of the Indo-Aryans as an indispensable part of education.
"Th’ boys"—he nodded at Drew and Anse—"were sittin’ at that table, mindin’ their own business. Helms, he went over an’ picked up a book——" "A book!" Muller’s craggy features mirrored astonishment. "What book? Why?" Topham moved and suddenly they were all watching him. He stooped, picked up the dark-brown volume, and a torn page fluttered to the floor.
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