However that may be,
Bob was not surprised when toward sunset he came suddenly on a little
clearing, a tiny orchard, and a house built rudely of logs and shakes.
Relieved that he was not to spend the night without food and fire, he
vaulted the "snake" fence, and strode to the back door. A woman was
frying venison steaks.
"Hullo, Mrs. Ward," Bob shouted at her. "That smells good to me; I
haven't had a bite since last night!"
The woman dropped her pan and came to the door. A lank and lean Pike
County Missourian rose from the shadows and advanced.
"Light and rest yo' hat, Mr. Orde!" he called before he came well into
view. "But yo' already lighted, and you ain't go no hat!" he cried in
puzzled tones. "Whar yo'all from?"
"Came from north," Bob replied cheerfully, "and I lost my horse down a
canon, and my hat in a river."
"And yere yo' be plumb afoot!"
"And plumb empty," supplemented Bob. "Maybe Mrs. Ward will make me some
coffee," he suggested with a side glance at the woman who had once tried
to poison him.
She turned a dull red under the tan of her sallow complexion.
"Shore, Mr.
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