“I think I’m getting along marvelously, Hugh,” the wounded man replied, “though a cup of warm coffee right now would brace me up very much. It always acts as a stimulant with me, you know, as I use nothing stronger, and that only in moderation.”
“I’m sorry, then, we didn’t happen to have any,” Hugh told him; “but Mrs. Appleby will be only too glad to brew you a pot.”
“If you had happened in on our troop when we were camping,” Bud asserted proudly, “you would say we knew how to make the best coffee ever.”
“Well, here’s the road just ahead,” said Hugh; “and we may be lucky enough to have some one overtake us with a rig.”
“There’s one coming from town,” declared sharp-eyed Billy; “but that’s the wrong direction. Why, what’s this? Do my eyes deceive me, or is it our brave police force coming in that rig? I see blue coats and shiny brass buttons!”
“No, they’re strangers to me,” Hugh told him after a look. “I wonder if they can have anything to do with those two men in stripes?”
“Ginger! you’re right!” ejaculated Billy. “Why, these parties must be wardens from the penitentiary, out looking for the escaped convicts. Say, what ought we to do about it, Hugh? Would it be fair to tell on the poor wretches?”
Hugh considered a brief time, and then remarked:
“If they ask us questions, we will be bound to answer, and so tell them that we have seen their men. And from the style of those two fellows, I rather think the good people around here will be better off if they’re shut up again. That short one looked as if he wouldn’t mind smashing open a country bank.”
“He was hungry enough looking, seemed to me,” Bud broke in, “to burglarize a hen-roost or a smokehouse first. The bluecoats are slowing up, so I guess they mean to ask us square up and down if we know anything about stripes.”