Outside the house he came upon the girl and the youth standing in the sunshine of a bright, new day. They were talking together in a most animated manner, and as he approached wondering what the two had found of so great common interest he discovered that the discussion hinged upon the relative merits of ham and bacon as a breakfast dish.
“Oh, my heart it is just achin',” quoted Bridge,
“For a little bite of bacon,
“A hunk of bread, a little mug of brew;
“I'm tired of seein' scenery,
“Just lead me to a beanery
“Where there's something more than only air to
chew.”
The two looked up, smiling. “You're a funny kind of tramp, to be quoting poetry,” said The Oskaloosa Kid, “even if it is Knibbs'.”
“Almost as funny,” replied Bridge, “as a burglar who recognizes Knibbs when he hears him.”
The Oskaloosa Kid flushed. “He wrote for us of the open road,” he replied quickly. “I don't know of any other class of men who should enjoy him more.”
“Or any other class that is less familiar with him,” retorted Bridge; “but the burning question just now is pots, not poetry—flesh pots. I'm hungry. I could eat a cow.”
The girl pointed to an adjacent field. “Help yourself,” she said.
“That happens to be a bull,” said Bridge. “I was particular to mention cow, which, in this instance, is proverbially less dangerous than the male, and much better eating.
“'We kept a-rambling all the time. I rustled grub, he rustled rhyme—