"Guess I lay in some hair tonic so's to have a good one ready for you,"
returned Welton, as Harding nodded his farewell.
IX
Matters stood thus dependent on the efforts of Jack Orde, at Washington,
when, one evening, Baker rode in to camp and dismounted before the low
verandah of the sleeping quarters. Welton and Bob sat, chair-tilted,
awaiting the supper gong.
"Thrice hail, noble chiefs!" cried Baker, cautiously stretching out
first one sturdy leg, then the other. "Against which post can I lean my
trusty charger?"
Baker was garbed to suit the role. His boots were very thick and very
tall, and most bristly with hobnails; they laced with belt laces through
forty-four calibre eyelets, and were strapped about the top with a broad
piece of leather and two glittering buckles. Furthermore, his trousers
were of khaki, his shirt of navy blue, his belt three inches broad, his
neckerchief of red, and his hat both wide and high.
In response to enthusiastic greetings, he struck a pose.
"How do you like it?" he inquired. "Isn't this the candy make-up for the
simple life--surveyor, hardy prospector, mountain climber, sturdy
pedestrian? Ain't I the real young cover design for the Out-of-door
number?"
He accepted their congratulations with a lofty wave.
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