At that Billie was heard to give vent to a groan. Whether this was forced from his lips at the prospect of another hungry mouth to feed, or because he could sympathize with any one who was compelled to go without breaking his fast for such a
length of time, it might be hard to say; though the latter seemed to be nearer the truth, judging from the way he began to search through his pockets until he had found a package wrapped in paper, which he thrust into the hand of Adrian’s passenger with the remark:
“That’s a piece of dried venison I’ve been carryin’ all the while, to keep body and soul together in case I ever got lost again on the desert or the prairie. But you’re welcome to it, Mr. Thomas. Don’t swallow it in lumps, because you had ought to grind your food first, and that pemmican is tough stuff. But it’ll keep you busy, and p’raps I’ll find a chance to cook something when that’s gone.”
“Bless your kind heart, my boy!” muttered the man, who was already tearing the paper off, so as to get busy with the piece of dried meat, upon which Billie had been secretly nibbling between meals, to “stay his stomach,” as he would say.
The herd had gotten some distance away, but the boys experienced no trouble in catching up again. As the three cow-punchers had their hands full keeping the cattle from breaking away, now that they were once more on familiar fields, they paid no attention to the newcomer. And Thomas was so savagely munching the tough dried meat that he did not seem to notice them.
A short time later the boys announced that they would stop alongside of a stream, let the cattle
graze for a while, and get something to eat themselves. In spite of Billie’s vivid fears there was plenty of provisions left for all hands, even including the latest edition to the force.
Adrian noticed that Thomas hesitated when the three punchers came in after Billie had called to them that lunch was ready. He seemed to scan each face as if he feared lest there might be some one who would know him; and the boy fancied it was a look of relief that swept over the wrinkled countenance of the lame man when he made sure that he had nothing to fear in that line.
“There’s something queer about this Thomas,” Adrian told himself; “he’s been in a peck of trouble somewhere, and is afraid of somebody; because he’s forever looking around, and starts every time any one speaks. But he isn’t the kind to be afraid of, and he sure does need helping along. I’ll take him as far as the ranch house, anyway, and see what Uncle Fred can do for him.”
And with that he forgot all about the man for the time being, because there were so many other important things that came crowding into his mind.