Jim leaned over and whispered in Humble’s ear, the information being that there were ladies about, and that all swearing must be thought and not yelled. Then he slipped the gag, and untied the ropes. Gales of laughter met the angry and indignant puncher when he had leaped to his feet, and he flashed one quick glance at the women and then, boiling with wrath and suppressed profanity, fled toward the corrals as swiftly as cramped muscles would allow. The dog snarled at its tormentors and then set off in hot pursuit of its discomfited master, whose waving arms kept time with his speeding legs.
“That’s all the thanks we get,” grumbled Bud, “but then, he don’t know any better anyhow.”
Blake laughed and regarded his grinning and expectant outfit, and the longer he looked at them the more he laughed. They had paid their respects to the women while Silent explained about the travois and now they cast many longing glances at the blankets and cloths spread out on the grass and at the baskets which Bill was busy over. They had tried to coax the driver to them to give information as to what they might expect in the way of edibles, but he had haughtily and disdainfully refused to enlighten them, taking care, however, to arouse their curiosity by looking fondly at the box and the baskets and even showed his elation by taking several fancy steps for their benefit.
“Well, get rid of the cayuses,” said Blake, “and square things with Humble. Bring him back with you or you don’t get any pie. You’re such a darn fool crowd that I can’t get mad this time, but don’t ever drag a man in a travois again.”
“Did he come, or was he kidnapped?” murmured Bud. “What we did once we can do again, and Humble will be on hand when the feast begins.”
Jim had been scowling at Bill, whose manners were most aggravating. “You just wait, you heathen,” threatened Jim. “You’re ace high with the grub, all right, but just you wait ’til we get you alone!”
“Yah!” laughed the driver. “I shore can handle the best cow-wrastler that ever lived.”
“Bill seems to be running this here festival,” Bud complained to Helen.
“Oh, he is our right-hand man,” she replied with enthusiasm. “We couldn’t possibly get along without him, now. He has charge of the pie and cake.”
Bill’s chest expanded: “I’m foreman of the pie and cake herd,” he exclaimed proudly. “You can’t get ahead of me.”