"Of course that may not be so, but it sounds plausible, anyhow," concluded the Westerner, as he took down a handsome rifle, to show to his friends.
"Crimps! I wish there were Indians here now," said Andy, wistfully.
"Why, are you anxious to see how fast you can run—away from them?" asked Frank.
"Huh! I guess I wouldn't run any more than you," retorted Andy.
"The Indians are a back number," said Billy. "What few there are left are on reservations. But come on, I think I smell the ham and eggs," and he led the way to the dining-room.
It was not yet time for supper, but Mrs. Thornton, knowing the appetites of the boys, had prepared a meal for them, and they did ample justice to it.
"Did Sing-Sing-Song-Song 'hab got'?" asked Billy, as the time for dessert approached.
"Well, he has something, at any rate," answered Mrs. Thornton, and she placed on the table a pie ornamented with all sorts of devices made from sugar. The cook had drawn his patterns from the Orient.
"Looks like a Chinese laundry ticket," commented Billy, and truly the icing on the pie was in the shape of the queer letters of the Flowery Kingdom.
"I don't care how it looks, as long as it's got the taste," said Frank.