"How can it?" Teddy asked, sharply.
"Them as have tried it might be able to explain more'n I can; there's no call for me to spend wind tryin' to tell what you won't listen to, so I'll hold my tongue. I'm bound to say this much, though, which is that you're certain to catch it rough when the time comes for showin' yourself."
"That'll be all right; I can stand a good deal for the sake of seein' the old man once more."
Having said this, Teddy turned his head away as if no longer inclined for conversation, whereupon the owner of the two dinner-pails surveyed him admiringly.
"I wouldn't wonder if you had considerable sand in you, Teddy Dunlap," he said, musingly. "An' even though it seems a queer thing for a grown man to do, I'm minded to give you a lift along what's goin' to prove a mighty hard road."
"Meanin' that you're willin' to help me?" the lad asked, his face brightening wonderfully.
"It's little I can do, an' while I ought'er turn you over to the police in order to prevent your makin' a fool of yourself, I'll see the game out so far as I can. What have you got by way of an outfit?"
"I don't need any."
"You must have food and water."
"I ain't broke, an' it won't be any great job to buy as much grub as will keep me goin' for a spell."