Clay removed the dishes and sat down by his side, but just then Teddy came nosing out of the cabin and invited the boy to box with him. In a second the kid was on the railing and half over into the water. Clay’s voice was shaking with laughter as he reproved the cub and pulled the boy back on the deck. Teddy walked away on his hind feet in offended dignity.
“You shouldn’t mind a little thing like that!” Clay laughed. “You’d get used to seeing things if you sailed on the Rambler long!”
“Then this is really the Rambler?” asked the other.
“Sure it is! Where did you ever hear of the Rambler? What’s your name? How long have you been growing that appetite you just had on exhibition? It was a corker, if anybody should ask you!”
“My name is Tom, and I’m from Chicago, and I’ve been without food for fourteen weeks, if you want the truth!”
“Hunger doesn’t seem to affect your imagination!” Clay suggested.
“Well, I don’t know how long it has been since I had a square meal like that! I invaded a free lunch counter yesterday morning, but the brute of a barkeep tumbled me out into the street.”
“Did you walk from Chicago?” asked Clay, after a moment’s silence.
“I rode the rods,” was the reply. “I’m all stuffed with sand. I’ll turn into stone, like Arizona wood, in about three weeks.”
Clay regarded the boy curiously. He spoke gravely, saying odd things as one might repeat a lesson at school.