“'Blind baggage, hoof it, ride or climb—we always put it through.' Who's going to rustle the grub?”
The girl looked at The Oskaloosa Kid. “You don't seem like a tramp at all, to talk to,” she said; “but I suppose you are used to asking for food. I couldn't do it—I should die if I had to.”
The Oskaloosa Kid looked uncomfortable. “So should—” he commenced, and then suddenly subsided. “Of course I'd just as soon,” he said. “You two stay here—I'll be back in a minute.”
They watched him as he walked down to the road and until he disappeared over the crest of the hill a short distance from the Squibbs' house.
“I like him,” said the girl, turning toward Bridge.
“So do I,” replied the man.
“There must be some good in him,” she continued, “even if he is such a desperate character; but I know he's not The Oskaloosa Kid. Do you really suppose he robbed a house last night and then tried to kill that Dopey person?”
Bridge shook his head. “I don't know,” he said; “but I am inclined to believe that he is more imaginative than criminal. He certainly shot up the Dopey person; but I doubt if he ever robbed a house.”
While they waited, The Oskaloosa Kid trudged along the muddy road to the nearest farm house, which lay a full mile beyond the Squibbs' home. As he approached the door a lank, sallow man confronted him with a suspicious eye.
“Good morning,” greeted The Oskaloosa Kid.