“Just in case,” Teddy explained, and, putting on their coats, the two boys descended the stairs.
They told their father, out of hearing of Mrs. Manley, however, who might worry unnecessarily, that they were armed. The ranch owner commended their foresight and remarked that he was about to suggest it himself. He knew the boys were to be depended upon. Living on the range brings self-reliance early in life, and Mr. Manley felt proud of the fact that his sons were true men of the West—courageous and upright.
As the car rolled out of the ranch yard with Roy driving and Belle and Teddy beside him in the front seat, Sing Lung burst from the door of the cook-house.
“Late!” he yelled. “You late!”
“What’s he mean—‘late?’ ” Teddy asked curiously.
“He means wait,” Belle answered, with a smile. “Hold up for a minute, Roy. He wants to give us something.”
Sing Lung ran towards them, a package in his hand. A broad grin lighted his face.
“You maybe get hungly, yes?” he said, placing the package in Belle’s lap. “I flix lunch!”
“That’s very kind of you, Sing Lung,” Belle declared, smiling her gratitude. Belle was plainly the cook’s favorite. “We’ll be glad to have this. Thank you, a lot!”
“All lite!” with a still wider grin. “You wal-com’. Goo’-bye. Have nice time! Jumpee allee slidewalks!”