Dean tried to remember how Ryland had described the method of securing the other end of the line to the climber's body.
I have to tell you, Mr. Ryland is a damned sight more pleasant than bossy Miss Quincy, the sister from hell.
Donald Ryland kept up a nonstop conversation with his son and front seat companion, as they whipped along the highway.
As he finished the conversation, Donald Ryland emerged from his room, looking as if his dog had died.
Jerome Shipton didn't show up for a day or two and Ryland hadn't arrived yet either.
She cut his rope, figuring on hooking back up with that Ryland fellow but then his girlfriend showed up and in no uncertain terms pointed out why that was a dead end.
Just as Cynthia said it, Donald Ryland appeared behind them, still in his bathrobe, much to her gross embarrassment.
Donald Ryland tipped his wool cap to her as he entered, still dripping snow on the kitchen floor.
She nearly collided with Donald Ryland as she practically skipped from the room.
Fred, Donnie and Donald Ryland were already cutting wide snowplow turns on the gradual, open slope.