“Money?” Teddy asked. “Forget it. If you had any in your pockets, it’s gone. Besides, what can you buy for eleven cents?”
“Not money,” Roy replied. “It’s—ah, here we have it!” He pulled a sodden mass from one of his pockets. The gleam of tinfoil showed as he held the object proudly up.
“For the love of Pete, what’s that?” Teddy gasped. “A first-aid kit?”
“Chocolate!” Roy exclaimed. “Real, honest-to-goodness chocolate—even if it is a little mildewed. Here, take a piece.”
“Not me,” Teddy said firmly. “I like my chocolate in a cup or dry—but not half and half. You go ahead and eat it.”
“I will,” Roy answered, munching on the candy. “It’s good, too.”
“Is it?” Teddy commented. “Well, that’s nice.”
He could think of nothing else to say, and the two boys rode for a while in silence. The chocolate gave Roy added strength, and gradually his cheeks were resuming their normal color, that peculiar reddish brown that comes to the faces of men who live in the open. There is nothing more sickly looking than to see a man whose skin is tanned go suddenly pale beneath it.
“You know,” Roy said after a few minutes, “I would have been after this bronco as quickly as you, only my stirrup slipped.”
“I thought something happened. I—er—thought I had him when he doubled back and got away again. Hope Nell didn’t get hurt when she fell off.”