The professor made no reply, and Yates changed his whistling to “Rally round the flag.”
“I presume,” he said at length, “there is little use in attempting to improve the morning hour by trying to show you, Renmark, what a fool you made of yourself in the camp? Your natural diplomacy seemed to be slightly off the center.”
“I do not hold diplomatic relations with thieves and vagabonds.”
“They may be vagabonds; but so am I, for that matter. They may also be well-meaning, mistaken men; but I do not think they are thieves.”
“While you were talking with the so-called general, one party came in with several horses that had been stolen from the neighboring farmers, and another party started out to get some more.”
“Oh, that isn’t stealing, Renmark; that’s requisitioning. You mustn’t use such reckless language. I imagine the second party has been successful; for here are three of them all mounted.”
The three horsemen referred to stopped their steeds at the sight of the two men coming round the bend of the road, and awaited their approach. Like so many of the others, they wore no uniform, but two of them held revolvers in their hands ready for action. The one who had no visible revolver moved his horse up the middle of the road toward the pedestrians, the other two taking positions on each side of the wagon way.
“Who are you? Where do you come from, and where are you going?” cried the foremost horseman, as the two walkers came within talking distance.
“It’s all right, commodore,” said Yates jauntily, “and the top of the morning to you. We are hungry pedestrians. We have just come from the camp, and we are going to get something to eat.”
“I must have a more satisfactory answer than that.”