Presently Roy caught sight of a great string of tank-cars. “Jiminy crickets!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know there were so many oil cars in the country. Why, there must be hundreds of them.”
“I suppose there are,” answered Mr. Young. “Do you see those racks running along the tracks just beside the cars? Those are huge oil pipes. They connect with oil-tanks somewhere. When a train is to be filled, a connecting pipe is run out to each tank-car and the pumps are started. They can load a hundred cars as easily as one.”
Presently a man on a buckboard dashed toward them, crying, “Here’s your hot tamales. Just fresh out of the kettle.”
“Have you eaten a hot tamale, Roy?” asked Mr. Young.
“No,” said Roy. “I didn’t know they were things you ate. I thought that was just a slang term.”
Mr. Young laughed and said, “We’ll try some. Then you’ll know what that bit of slang means.”
He motioned to the vender, who raced over to them and pulled his horses up short. They were bronchos and interested Roy. They were small but apparently tough and wiry. Mr. Young bought two tamales and handed one to Roy. The latter looked at it quizzically. He didn’t know whether he was the victim of a joke or not; for what Mr. Young had given him was a piece of a corn-husk. It was piping hot, and was wrapped around something soft.
“Open it,” said Mr. Young.