“Fish,” Willie said hopefully. “We could cut our rations.”
“Afraid it wouldn’t help much. We’ve made slower time than I figured. Naturally, we’ve consumed more food, and we were short enough even without this theft.”
“Who do you figure did it?” Jack speculated. “Not Walz?”
“I doubt Walz got this far. If he headed for the hollow as we assumed, he may have gone by a different route.”
“That fellow I saw through the field glass may have done it,” Jack pursued.
“Could be,” Warner agreed. “I thought you were wrong night before last when you said you saw someone, but it seems I was.”
“Stealing a man’s food is serious business,” Mr. Livingston remarked.
“It is,” the rancher agreed. “Why didn’t the fellow—whoever he was—come forward and ask for what he needed?”
“Where is he now? That’s what I want to know,” Willie grunted.
“Probably hiding out somewhere in the rocks and trees,” Warner replied. “For that matter, if he’s unfriendly, he could take a pot shot at us.”