Mebby it'll come handy. I figure to kick
my friend in the face when I jump. Do I find them eggs?"
"Dig for 'em," drawled the Texan.
"If we miss the first jump, then they shoot, and that'll be our finish.
But that's a heap better 'n gittin' stood up against a 'dobe wall. I
jest found them eggs."
And Pete uttered an exclamation as he drew his hand from the straw
behind him, and produced an egg. The Mexicans glanced up. Pete dug in
the straw and fetched up another egg--and another. Brevoort leaned
forward as though deeply interested in some sleight-of-hand trick. Egg
after egg came from the abandoned nest. The Mexicans laughed. The
supply of eggs seemed to be endless.
Finally Pete drew out his hand, empty. "Let's count 'em," he said, and
straightway began, placing the eggs in a pile midway between himself
and his companion. "Twenty-eight. She was a enterprisin' hen."
"I'll match for 'em," said Brevoort, hitching round and facing Pete.
"I'll go you!" And straightway Brevoort and Pete became absorbed in
the game, seemingly oblivious to the Mexicans, who sat watching, with
open mouths, utterly absorbed in their childish interest.
Pages:
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349
350
351
352
353
354
355
356
357
358
359
360
361
362
363