“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.”