“Well, there’s no use crossing a bridge until you come to it,” Professor Snodgrass went on. “Nestor and his friends are in possession yet, and that, you know, is nine of the ten points of the law.”
“Then if we can’t do anything right away I move we have something to eat,” suggested Bob.
“It’s a good suggestion,” agreed the scientist.
They had drawn a little to one side from the crowd of townspeople while talking about the letter from Nestor, but, having decided there was nothing to be done at present, they moved toward the hotel.
“I reckon I’ve got some more mail for your outfit, Professor Hayseed—er I beg yer pardon—Snodgrass,” said the postmaster-mayor. “There’s letters fer chaps named Baker, Slade and Hopkins. Nestor sent ’em along with that other,” and the dual official handed over three envelopes.
“They’re from home!” cried the boys in a chorus. And in the glare of oil lamps on the porch of the hotel they read the communications.
The missives contained nothing but good news, to the effect that all the loved ones were well. Each one inquired anxiously how much longer the travelers expected to stay away, and urged them to come home as soon as they could.
“Now for that supper!” exclaimed Bob, as he put his letter away.
If the meal was a rough one, prepared as it was by the Chinese cook, it was good, and the travelers enjoyed it thoroughly. As they rose from the table a cowboy entered the dining room and drawled out:
“I say strangers, be you th’ owners of that there rip-snortin’ specimen of th’ lower regions that runs on four wheels tied ’round with big sassages?”