Now, as he sat and watched the moon, killing himself merely seemed sensible. He had pushed his horse too hard and soon was steadily losing ground. Let's get going, cowboy, she said. You boys look like a dern bunch of wet chickens, he said.
While they were looking, Dan started a fire with some coal oil he had found and made some coffee. He started to go, but the boy would not give up. He didn't understand at first. Once he rejoined the boys, there would be little she could do about it.
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