"
"She feel lak' dat dam' Yuma bench, but here is only de rattlesnake. We
don' got to all de tam hont de pizen boog. Dat ain' no good for git so
dam' hot--she burn' oop de range. If it ain' so mooch danger for Win to
git hang--" He paused and looked at Tex with owlish solemnity. "A'm no
lak we cross dem bad lands. Better A'm lak we gon' back t'rough de
mountaine."
"You dig out them air-tights, if there's any in there, an' quit your
croakin'!" ordered the cowboy.
And with a grin Bat thrust in his arm to the shoulder. One by one he
drew out the tins--eight in all, and laid them in a row. The labels had
disappeared and the Texan stood looking down at them.
"Anyway we have these," smiled the girl, but the cowboy shook his head.
"Those big ones are tomatoes, an' the others are corn, an' peas--but, it
don't make any difference." He pointed to the cans in disgust: "See
those ends bulged out that way? If we'd eat any of the stuff in those
cans we'd curl up an' die, _pronto_. Roll 'em back, Bat, we got grub
enough without 'em. Two days will put us through the bad lands an' we've
got plenty. We'll start when the moon comes up."
All four spent the afternoon in the meagre shade of the bull pine,
seeking some amelioration from the awful scorching heat. But it was
scant protection they got, and no comfort.
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