or you to-night if you wanted it," he added.

"Did he?" asked Blake, grinning his delight.

"Yes, and some--apricot pie," added The Orphan wistfully.

Blake laughed: "Well, I reckon I've got some business over in town
to-night, so you keep on going 'til you get to the bunk house. Tell Lee
Lung to rustle the grub lively--I'll be there right after you. Apricot
pie!" he chuckled as he pushed on at a lope.

Jim Carter was washing for supper, being urged to show more speed by
Bud Taylor, when the latter looked up and saw The Orphan dismount. His
mouth opened a trifle, but he continued his urging without a break. He
had seen The Orphan at Ace High the year before, when the outlaw had
ridden in for a supply of cartridges, and he instantly recalled the face.
But Bud was not only easy-going, but also very hungry at the time, and he
didn't care if the devil himself called as long as the devil respected the
etiquette of the range. Besides, if there was to be trouble it would rest
more comfortably on a full stomach.

"Give me a quit-claim to that pan, yu coyote," he said pleasantly to Jim.
"Yu ain't taking no bath!"

"Blub--no I ain't--blub blub--but you will be--blub--if yu don't lemme
alone," came from the pan. "Hand me that towel!"

"Don't wallow in it, yu!" admonished Bud as he refilled the basin. "Leave
some dry spots for me, this time."

Jim carefully hung the towel on a peg in the wall of the house and then
noticed the stranger, who was removing his saddle.

"Howdy, stranger!" he said heartily. "Just in time to feed. Coax some of
that water from Bud, but get holt of the towel first, for there won't be
none left soon."

The Orphan laughed and dusted his chaps.

"Where'll I find Lee Lung?" he asked. "Blake wants him to rustle the grub
lively."

"He's in the cook shack behind the house a-doing it and trying to sing,"
replied Jim. "He's always trying to sing; it goes something like this:
Hop-lee, low-hop yum-see," he hummed in a monotonous wail as he combed
his hair before a broken bit of mirror stuck in a crack. "Hi-dee, hee-hee,
chop-chop----"

"Gimme that comb, yu heathen Chinee," cried Bud, "and don't make that
noise."

"Anything else yu wants?" asked Jim, deliberately putting the comb away
in the box.

"I want to be in Kansas City with a million dollars and a whopper of a
thirst," replied Bud as he filled the basin for the stranger. "It's all
yourn, stranger. Grub's waiting for yu inside when yore ready."