n a race of awkward
runners was on toward the bunk house, where breakfast was annihilated.

"Hey, Tom, what time do we leave?" asked Bud for the fifth time.

"Nine o'clock, you chump," replied the foreman.

"Three whole hours yet," grumbled Jim as he again plastered his hair to
his head.

"I'll lose my appetite shore," worried Humble. "We got up too blamed
early, that's what we did."

"Why, here's Humble!" cried Silent in mock surprise. "Do _you_ like
apricot pie, and gingerbread and _real_ coffee?"

"You go to the devil," grumbled Humble. "You wouldn't 'a' been asked at
all, only she couldn't very well cut you out of it when she asked me
along. _I_'m the one she really wants to feed; you fellers just happen
to tag on behind, that's all."

"Going to take Lightning with you, Humble?" asked Docile, winking at the
others.

"Why, I shore am," replied Humble in surprise. "Do you reckon I'd leave
him and that d-----d Chink all alone together, you sheep?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't," pessimistically grumbled Docile, but here
he smiled hopefully. "Suppose you take Lee Lung and leave the dog here?"
he queried.

"Suppose you quit supposing with your feet!" sarcastically countered
Humble. "I know you ain't got much brains, but you might exercise what
little you have got once in a while. It won't hurt you none after you
get used to it."

"How are you going to carry him, Humble--like a papoose?" queried Joe with
a great show of interest.

Humble stared at him: "Huh!" he muttered, being too much astonished to
say more.

"I asked you how you are going to carry your fighting wolfhound," Joe
said without the quiver of an eyelash. "I thought mebby you was going to
sling him on your back like a papoose."

"Carry him! Papoose!" ejaculated Humble in withering irony. "What do you
reckon his legs are for? He ain't no statue, he ain't no ornament, he's a
dog."

"Well, I knowed he ain't no ornament, but I wasn't shore about the rest of
it," responded Joe. "I only wanted to know how he'd get to town. There
ain't no crime in asking about that, is there? I know he can't follow the
gait we'll hit up for thirty miles, so I just naturally asked, _sabe?"_

"Oh, you did, did you!" cried Humble, not at all humbly. "He can't follow
us, can't he?" he yelled belligerently.

"He shore can't, cross my heart," asserted Silent in great earnestness.
"If he runs to Ford's Station after us and gets there inside of two days
I'll buy him a c