"
"Then we eat," asserted Pete. "You go git that turkey, and I'll do the
rest."
Wild turkey, spitted on a cedar limb and broiled over a wood fire, a
bannock or two with hot coffee in an empty bean-can (Pete insisted on
Andy using the one cup), tastes just a little better than anything else
in the world, especially if one has ridden far in the high country--and
most folk do, before they get the wild turkey.
It was three o'clock when they turned in, to share Pete's one blanket,
and then Andy was too full of Pete's adventures to sleep, asking an
occasional question which Pete answered, until Andy, suddenly recalling
that Pete had told him The Spider had left him his money, asked Pete if
he had packed all that dough with him, or banked it in El Paso. To
which Pete had replied drowsily, "Sure thing, Miss Gray." Whereupon
Andy straightway decided that he would wait till morning before asking
any further questions of an intimate nature.
Pete was strangely quiet the nest morning, in fact almost taciturn, and
Andy noticed that he went into the saddle a bit stiffly.
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