A meal was quickly prepared. And perhaps neither the former prisoner nor his rescuer ever enjoyed one more. They lingered over it a long time, too, often looking at each other in silence, as though it was almost impossible for them to realize their good fortune.
At length Jed began to recount his experiences.
“It ain’t such a long story, Bob,” he explained. “You haven’t told me much about yourselves yet; but you’ve mentioned seein’ that thar Hank Styles.” The trooper scowled angrily. “Every time I think of him an’ his crowd my dander rises to the b’ilin’ point.”
“I don’t blame you,” said the Rambler.
“A little while back, when cattle rustlers an’ smugglers had started things goin’ at a lively rate, Sergeant Erskine gave me a ‘special’ on the job. I tell you, Bob, I wanted to make my mark on the force; an’ I thought it would be the means of givin’ me the first big boost.”
“Well, I can just bet you did all you could,” cried Bob.
“You’re sartinly right. I worked day an’ night. Sometimes I thought I had track of ’em. But nothin’ seemed to pan out; an’ I began to get sick o’ the job.”
“Remember saying something like that to one of the border patrols?”
“Sure thing. Why?”
“He got an idea you were tired of the force.”