"I'll do that, and you'll say that, however ugly I look, I'm just the feller to sarve as a cook."
Uttering these words in a chanting sort of way, Mr. Steel Spring stretched out his legs with a jerk, which resembled the sudden opening of a jackknife. He stood upon his feet, and then we had an opportunity to see how long and lank he really was; and yet beneath all his withered skin we saw that his muscles were of prodigious size, and that his strength must he astonishing.
We motioned for him to lead the way, and in a few moments we reached the cart, beneath which the old stockman was still snoring.
CHAPTER XXV.
STEEL SPRING'S HISTORY
Steel Spring made no idle boast when he said he was famous as a cook. In a shorter space of time than I conceived possible, he had built a fire, boiled water, and made an excellent dish of coffee, and then spreading our provisions under the shade of a tree, he informed us that our dinners were ready.
By this time Hardum, the stockman, was awake, and repentant, as most men usually are after a drinking bout. He seemed surprised that we had made an addition to our company during his snoring hours, but he was too proud, or too much ashamed, to ask any questions concerning the mystery.
As for Steel Spring, I observed that that amiable, long-legged individual eyed the stockman rather narrowly, as though he expected a few words of reproach, or something worse; but in this he was mistaken; for Hardum contented himself with expressing surprise at the length of his pedal extremities, and wanted to know if he was not sired by a kangaroo—an expression which our new acquaintance laughed at, as he wished to conciliate the old man.
As the sun poured down with scorching severity, and two hours would elapse before we could venture to return to our work without fear of being sun struck, we lighted our pipes, and stretched our forms beneath the shade of a gum tree, leisurely watched the smoke of the fragrant tobacco as it curled over our heads.