Just before sunset Left-over, peering ahead from his driver’s seat, uttered a shrill whoop and tried to whip up his mules.
“Hyar! What’re you aiming to do?” demanded Captain Hi, severely.
“Aw, can’t you let a feller be?” whined Left-over. “I was going on ahead, is all, and see what I could buy.”
On a little hillock, before, beside the trail was what appeared to be another stage station of canvas, but the top of the tent (for wall tent it turned out to be) displayed in large black letters the sign: “Grocery.” This explained Left-over’s hurry. However, as the nearest “pilgrims” were behind he would have the grocery to himself, so Captain Hi calmed him down with—
“Don’t be so brash about it, then. If you go and kill off one of those mules we’ll put you in harness with the other one.”
“And that will be a pair,” added Billy, quick as a wink.
“Never mind, Left-over,” comforted the Reverend. “Maybe we can get our dried apples there and have that pie I promised you.”
But as they toiled on nearer, the tent grocery seemed deserted. It had no customers and no proprietor.
“Whoa!” yelled Left-over loudly, pulling down his mules opposite the tent. “Whoa, there!” And—“Hello,” he hailed shrilly.
At this slowly emerged from between two large barrels the figure of a gaunt, frowsy-headed man—like a dog crawling out of a kennel. The man must have been asleep. He yawned and stretched and stared.