The noes had it unanimously.
“I knew it,” grinned Tom. “When we met Jed at Circle T Ranch in Wyoming I always thought he was an out and out bona fide American cowboy. Gee! A chap can’t be sure about anything—can he?”
“You seem to be sure about everything,” chirped Larry.
“I certainly am sure about your being the laziest fellow who ever traveled with our crowd,” retorted Tom, witheringly. “Say, Bob, let’s hurry up. You see, if——”
Tom suddenly stopped, for the faint sound of a footstep just outside reached his ears; and, on looking up, he saw a lean, muscular form suddenly appear in the doorway, a proceeding which threw a long, gaunt shadow over the floor.
As the rosy morning light played across it, Teddy Banes’ swarthy face suggested a head of bronze.
Tom Clifton was not at all pleased. He had taken a great dislike to the half-breed, and, somehow, felt it was cordially returned. The man’s sullen demeanor, a peculiar glint in his eyes, and his apparent contempt for the club inspired Tom with indignation.
“Good-morning,” saluted Bob Somers.
“Mornin’,” responded Teddy Banes, slipping upon his seat by the table. “How soon you go away?”
“Right after breakfast,” answered Bob.