“We had given him a meal, but he wanted to make off with the basket besides. As this would have left us utterly without food, I objected.”
“The mean skunk! I’m glad I came up in time to settle him.”
“Won’t you have something to eat yourself, Mr. Stackpole?” asked Harry, bethinking himself that his deliverer might need refreshment.
“I don’t mind if I do,” answered Obed. “The fact is, I’m feeling kinder hollow. I feel a gnawin’ at my vitals that isn’t pleasant. This is prime fodder; where did you raise it?”
While Obed was eating—with hearty relish, it may be added—Harry related briefly what had befallen Jack and himself since they had parted company.
“You’re in luck, boys,” was Obed’s comment. “You fared better than I, for you’ve had your square meals, while I’ve had only one besides this.”
“Where was that?” asked Harry.
“At the same place where you passed the night. I got there about an hour after you left, as well as I can make out. The gal was very kind, and gave me a tip-top breakfast. I ate till I was ashamed, and then left off hungry. That’s why I’ve got such an appetite now. Yesterday I didn’t have but one meal, and I’ve had to make up for that.”
“Did Lucy tell you we had passed the night at her father’s house?”
“Lucy! Seems to me you got mighty familiar,” said Obed, in a jocular tone. “She didn’t tell me what her name was. I suppose she looked upon me as a dried-up old bach.”