“We’ve had to step aside and let him git between and us and the fire warden’s, if that’s what ye mean,” mumbled Abner.
“I never expected to run into anything like this,” declared Stanley.
“My son, you mean you’ve found it exciting enough,” soberly suggested Bub.
“Why! it’s ridiculous,” complained Stanley. “It’s as bad as the old days of Indian warfare. We’ll be scalped the next thing we know.”
“It wouldn’t pay to bother with my head covering,” sourly returned Abner. “But scalping, or no scalping, I’m going to eat. Lawd! what fools we was we didn’t take along more grub.”
Bub unrolled the provisions and by the sense of touch alone enumerated, “Bread, bacon and coffee. We have no water to make coffee with and if we had we would not dare build a fire. I haven’t reached the point yet where I care for uncooked bacon. That brings us down to bread. What would you like for lunch, Mister Whitten?”
“Ye just stop that funning,” growled Abner. “To think of being chased and shot to pieces and not be allowed to eat.” '
“I’m waiting to take your order, Mister Whitten,” politely informed Bub.
