"I'll take your advice, Sergeant, but am I sound and whole? I felt
something in me break, and then the earth rose up and hit me in the face."

"I reckon it was just the last ounce of breath going out of you with a
pop. They're hunting hard, Mr. Mason, but they can't pick up the trace
of a footstep. Slade must be mad clean through."

"Slade! Slade! Who's Slade?"

"Slade is a spy partly, and an outlaw mostly, 'cause he often works on
his own hook. He's the weazened little fellow with so much hat-brim,
and he's about twenty different kinds of a demon. You've plenty of
reason to fear him, and it's lucky we've met."

"It's more than luck for me, Sergeant. It's salvation. I believe it
wouldn't have been half as hard on me if somebody had been with me,
and you're the first whom I would have chosen. Are they still in the dip,
Sergeant?"

"No, they've passed to the slope on the right, and I think they'll go
over the hill. We're safe here so long as we remain quiet; that is,
safe for the time. Slade will hang on as long as there's a possible
chance to find us."

"Sergeant, if they do happen to stumble upon us in the dark I hope you'll
promise to do one thing for me."

"I'll do anything I can, Mr. Mason."