The opportune appearance of the cook to serve the half-breed probably prevented a lively wrangle between the two, for the crushing retort which Tom was about to utter remained unspoken.
“One thing I tells you,” remarked Banes; “in a big country like this you boys get lost—starve, maybe.”
“Just listen to him,” said Tom, disgustedly. “Lost!—Starve! It shows just how much you know about us, Mr. Teddy Banes. Our crowd has traveled a lot and been in some pretty tight places—yes, sir. We know enough to keep out of any very bad mess.”
“Many bad mens around here—smugglers—cattle rustlers,” continued Banes. “They shoot, maybe—shoot to kill. You laugh! Ah! You think it is nothings! Ask Stanford; ask Cole. Listen!”—The half-breed raised a large brown finger in the air. “Much dangerous, I tell you again. Warren a brave man, yet he get scared; yes—so scared he desert.”
“No such thing!” stormed Tom.
“An’ I say yes. Better go, or maybe you never see home again.”
“That sounds interesting,” exclaimed Larry Burnham. “But in this confounded big country it wouldn’t be such a hard matter to get lost, as he says, Tom. An’ who knows but some of the chaps we’d meet might be pretty rough characters?”
“Oh, if you’re getting frightened,” began Tom.
“No, I’m not getting frightened, but talking common sense. Suppose we couldn’t find water? Or suppose, for instance——”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t suppose any more. Fellows, let’s escort Larry over to the nearest railroad station and see him safely aboard,” said Tom, so disgusted that a hot flush mantled his cheek. “We don’t want any pullbacks or kickers in this crowd.”