human
The canvasman, of course, said the young motorist, looking around at Burton,
gpt
Here's a go! muttered Burton.
human
If we take one fork, we may be hustling off on the wrong scent. At a guess, I should say take the right-hand branch.
gpt
Let's not do any guessing until we have to, Matt returned.
human
My cowboy chum here is a good hand at picking up trails. Show us how they do it in Arizona, Joe.
gpt
You might as well try to hunt for the print of a rabbit's foot in the trail of a herd of stampeded steers,
human
What sort of a cowboy are you, anyhow?
gpt
Well, look, answered McGlory.
human
The ground is all cut up with people coming to the show, and it's none too soft. I couldn't pick out the tread of a traction thrashing machine in all this jumble of prints.
gpt
Any one coming on either road? queried Burton, standing up and looking.
human
If there is, we could inquire as to whether they'd passed the monkey wagon.
gpt
See any one?
human
Not a soul,
gpt
Just a minute, Joe, interposed Matt, as the cowboy was about to climb back into the tonneau.
human
What's that white object in the road? Matt pointed as he spoke.
gpt
There's one, just over the left-hand fork, and another beyond it.
human
If you stop to bother with paper scraps, cried Burton,