"And what's more, you old grafters'll get bounced, sure pop," continued Martin. "They won't want you. You don't wear spectacles, and you eat too many proteids in your beans."
"You ain't heard who's going to be sent out for Supervisor?" asked old John.
"They haven't found any one with thick enough glasses yet," retorted Martin.
California John made some purchases, packed his mule, and climbed back up the mountain to the summer camp. Here he threw off his saddle and supplies, and entered the ranger cabin. A rusty stove was very hot. Atop bubbled a capacious kettle. California John removed the cover and peered in.
"Chicken 'n' dumpling!" said he.
He drew a broken-backed chair to the table and set to business. In ten minutes his plate contained nothing but chicken bones. He contemplated them with satisfaction.
"I reckon that'll even up for that bacon performance," he remarked in reference to some past joke on himself.
At dusk three men threw open the outside door and entered. They found California John smoking his pipe contemplatively before a clean table.
"Now, you bowlegged old sidewinder," said Ross Fletcher, striding to the door, "we'll show you something you don't get up where you come from."
"What is it?" asked California John with a mild curiosity.