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He was dry after his long recital and Captain Scraggs was too long putting in an appearance, so he decided not to wait for him. "Let's go an' stow away a glass of beer," he suggested to McGuffey. "I'm thirstier'n a camel." McGuffey was willing so they left the bulkhead for the more convivial shelter of the Bowhead saloon.
Whispers became spasmodic, indeed even frequent. "Say, Curly," whispered Del Hickman hoarsely to his neighbour, "ef somethin' don't turn loose right soon I'm due to die right here. I'm thirstier'n if this here floor was the Staked Plains." "Same here," said Curly in a muttered undertone. "But I reckon we're here till the round-up's made.
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