Business which had to do with the cache they had lifted from Tucker detained Pinkey in town longer than expected. He returned in the night and did not get up when the triangle jangled for breakfast. In fact, it was well into the forenoon when he appeared, only to learn that Miss Eyester had gone off with old Mr. Penrose to look at an eagle's nest.
"What did he do that for?" Pinkey demanded of Wallie.
"I presume he wanted her company," Wallie replied, composedly, entertained by the ferocity of Pinkey's expression.
"Is he a dude or is he a duder that he has to go guidin' people to see sights they prob'ly don't want to look at?"
"She seemed willing enough to go," Wallie answered.
Pinkey sneered: "Mebbe I'd better git me a blue suit with brass buttons and stand around and open gates and unsaddle fer 'em."
Wallie regarded his partner calmly.
"Pinkey, you're jealous."
"Jealous! Me jealous of an old Methuselah that don't know enough to make a mark in the road?" Unconsciously Pinkey's hand sought his eyebrows, as he laughed hollowly. "Why, I could show her a barrel of eagles' nests! I know whur there's a coyote den with pups in it! I know whur there's a petrified tree and oceans of Injun arrer heads, if she'd jest waited. But if anybody thinks I'm goin' to melt my boot-heels down taggin' a worman, they're mistaken!" Pinkey stamped off to the bunk-house and slammed the door behind him.
"Where's Pinkey?" The question was general when it was observed that his chair was vacant at dinner.
"Still reposing, I imagine," Wallie answered, humorously.
Mrs. Budlong commented: "A night ride like that must be very fatiguing."
"Oh, very." Wallie winked at himself figuratively, thinking that the 99 per cent. alcoholic content of one of Mr. Tucker's bottles undoubtedly accounted for his weariness.
"You are sure he's not ill?" inquired Miss Eyester. She had not enjoyed her revenge upon Pinkey, for going away without telling her, as much as she had anticipated; besides, the eagle's nest turned out to be a crows' nest with no birds in it, and that was disappointing.
Mr. Hicks, who frequently joined in the conversation when anything interested him, snorted from the kitchen doorway: "Ill? You couldn't make him 'ill' with a club with nails in it--that feller."
"Oh, how dread-ful!" Aunt Lizzie clasped her hands, and looked at the brutal cook reprovingly.
"Perhaps one of us had better awaken him," Miss Eyester suggested. "He should eat something."
"Hor! Hor! Hor!" Mr. Hicks laughed raucously. "Maybe he don't feel like eating. Let him alone and he'll come out of it."