"Will you? Thanks; then I'll go."
The man lumbered from the wagon and tied up his team. They were soon in the general store, and here obtained a satisfactory spread of crackers, cheese, chipped beef, and canned stuff, which the storekeeper let them eat at a table in a back room.
"Blame me if that aint as good a supper as I've had in a long time," was Sandy Hopgood's comment, after he had finished the third of a pie Dale had purchased. "It's a heap sight better nor going home for the meal."
"Does Mrs. Hoover run the table?" asked Dale.
"Kind of—it runs itself mostly." Sandy Hopgood closed one eye suggestively. "You won't git fat up to our camp, let me tell you that."
When the man had departed to bring around his turnout, Owen motioned to Dale.
"I'm going to take a few eatables along," he said. "Just put the things that are in my satchel in with your own, and then we can fill mine up with food enough to last two or three days. I'm not going to starve."
This was agreed to, and by the time Sandy Hopgood called for them, they had Owen's valise filled with all sorts of things to eat. The storekeeper smiled when he saw them stowing the articles away.
"Reckon you know your man," he said suggestively.
"Not exactly, but we've heard something," answered Dale.