“What do these young buckos want here?” asked one of the men at the table, rising and coming toward them. As he did so, Bobby noticed that he limped a trifle.
“We stopped in for a minute to ask if we were on the right road to the station,” said Bobby in a tone which he tried to render as careless as possible.
“You did, eh?” said the man. “Well, just wait a minute and I’ll tell you.”
He and his companion approached their comrade at the door, and for a few moments there was a whispered conversation. Then the man with the scar, who seemed to be the leader of the gang, turned to Bobby.
“You’re on the right road all right,” he said.
“Thank you,” returned Bobby. “Then I guess we’ll be getting on.”
The man laughed at this.
“Guess again, young feller,” said one of them.
“What’s your hurry?” asked the lame man.
“We don’t often have such nice young kids drop in to keep us company,” sneered the man with the scar. “Take off your hats and stay awhile.”