I'm goin' right straight to the Half Moon corrals."
"Then would you mind if my friend rode with you? I'll pay whatever is
right."
The other eyed him strangely. "I reckon you're from the East, maybe?
Huh?"
"Yes. From New York."
"Uh-uh. I thought so. Well, stranger, we won't quarrel none over the
payin', an' your frien' can pile in with me."
Conniston turned, murmuring his thanks, to where Hapgood now was
sitting up. And the red-headed man climbed down from his seat and
began to unhitch his horses.
"You needn't git your frien' up jest now in case he ain't finished his
siesta. We won't move on until mornin'."
"Where are you going to sleep?" Hapgood wanted to know.
"I had sorta planned some on sleepin' right here."
"Right here! You don't sleep on the ground?"
The red-headed man, drawing serenely at his cigarette, went about
unharnessing his horses.
"Bein' as how I ain't et for some right smart time," he was saying as
he came back from staking out his horses, "I'm goin' to chaw real
soon. Has you gents et yet?"
They assured him that they had not.
"Then if you've got any chuck you want to warm up you can sling it in
my fryin'-pan." He dragged a soap-box to the tail end of the buckboard
and began taking out several packages.
"We didn't bring anything with us," Conniston told him. "We didn't
think--"
The new-comer dropped his frying-pan, put his two hands on his hips,
and stared at them.
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