CHAPTER V
WHEREIN GILBERT JONES IS WORRIED, AND LUCIA PELL IS ASKED TO DO AN IMPOSSIBLE THING
Poor "Red" couldn't have encountered the invalid at a less propitious moment; for he was almost knocked down by that crabbed gentleman.
"Certainly wheels a mean chair," he said good-naturedly to Gilbert, as he watched Uncle Henry steer himself out to the gate. "Got his cut-out open, too! Pesky to-day, ain't he? That's one reason I came back." He spread his legs apart, and fanned himself with his hat. He ran his fingers through his thick, violent crop of hair. "A mean Arizona day!" he said. "The walk made me hot."
"I should think it would," Jones replied.
"No grub yet?" "Red" ventured. He was hungry even yet. Twenty-two is always hungry.
"No," said his employer.
"Should have been ready two hours ago. What's the matter? Wish we had Mrs. Quinn over here."