The two friends felt themselves to be in a serious strait. The exchange of horses was annoying, but it would only lengthen their journey a little. The loss of their whole stock of provisions could not so readily be made up.
“I feel holler,” said Joshua. “I never could do much before breakfast. I wish I’d eat more supper. I would have done it, only I was afraid, by the way that skunk pitched into ’em, we wouldn’t have enough to last.”
“You only saved them for him, it seems,” said Joe. “He has certainly made a poor return for our kindness.”
“If I could only wring his neck, I wouldn’t feel quite so hungry,” said Joshua.
“Or cut his head off with a scythe,” suggested Joe, smiling faintly.
“Danged if I wouldn’t do it,” said Mr. Bickford, hunger making him bloodthirsty.
“We may overtake him, Mr. Bickford.”
“You may, Joe, but I can’t. He’s left me his horse, which is clean tuckered out, and never was any great shakes to begin with. I don’t believe I can get ten miles out of him from now till sunset.”
“We must keep together, no matter how slow we go. It won’t do for us to be parted.”
“We shall starve together likely enough,” said Joshua mournfully.