After a thorough search of the camp he found something which had evidently done duty as a coffee-pot, and when he had filled it with water and set it on the coals, he stopped, not knowing what else to do. Tortillas he could not make, and he had not yet learned the art of skinning squirrels and cooking them before the fire on spits. However, he could get on without the squirrels. He had a supply of eatables in his game-bag, and the cold bread and meat, with the addition of a cup of hot coffee, would make him a good supper. If the hunter wanted anything he could get up and cook it himself.
Guy, having arranged his table to his satisfaction, poured some of the coffee into a cup which the ranchman had been thoughtful enough to put into his game-bag with luncheon, and settled back on his elbow, believing that he could do full justice to the meal, not having tasted a mouthful since leaving the rancho shortly after daylight.
All these movements had been closely watched by Zeke, who was by no means so fully occupied with his meditations as he pretended to be. Seeing that Guy was eating the bread and meat with evident relish, he crawled slowly off his bed and joined him at his meal.
The supper disappeared rapidly after that, Zeke using both hands to crowd the food into his mouth, and emptying Guy’s cup at a draught whenever he was thirsty. In a very short space of time the last of the bread and meat was out of sight and the coffee-pot emptied.
Zeke gave a grunt of satisfaction, but had nothing to say until he had filled his pipe and lighted it with a brand from the fire. Then, between his long, deliberate puffs, he managed to utter the words:
“I’ve got it.”
“Got what?” asked the boy.
“I know what we’ll do. I’ve thought my plans out.”
“All right, pard,” said Guy, who believed that if he was going to be a hunter he might as well begin to use the language of one. “What are they? Spit ’em out.”
“I can do that,” said Zeke, “an’ it won’t take me long, nuther. In the fust place, I s’pose Wilson told you to go back to-morrow, didn’t he? I thought so. Wal, you go back ’cordin’ to orders, but instead of ta-kin’ your own gun an’ huntin’ rig with you, take mine an’ leave your’n. Understand? You see, the rifle an’ things b’longin’ to it that I’ve got here ain’t mine; they’re Wilson’s. I took ’em outen the store agreein’ to work fur ’em an’ the other things I need to take me back to the other side of the mountains whar I b’long an’ whar I’ll stay if I onct git thar agin, I bet you. But if I stop to ’arn everything I want it will take me two months more, an’ by that time we must be among the buffaler, if we’re goin’ to get any hides this season. You’ve got things enough and money enough to last us till we get to Laramie, an’ thar I can get what else we want from the traders. One rifle an’ one blanket will last us till then.”