He had been wandering about the camp in one of his
restless fits, and now he began:
"Say, what do you think I've been doing?"
"I dun'no'," Captain Judson answered, morosely. "Cheering the sick
and wounded; shedding smiles and sunshine as usual, I suppose?"
"Hunh! You're a funny guy, aren't you?--about as comical as a
chloroform cone. You make me laugh, you do--just like a broken
leg. Well, I've been looking up some grub for Miss Evans, and I
can't find any."
"Can't find any?"
"Nothing fit for her to eat. You don't expect her to live on this
infernal, eternal, and internal beef stew." Branch shuddered and
gagged slightly. "I've eaten parts of animals that were never
intended to be eaten. This rebel grub is killing ME. What'll it do
to her?"
"Didn't Major Ramos bring anything along?" O'Reilly asked.
"He says there's a famine at Cubitas."
"We'd better look into this," Judson exclaimed, and, finding that
his clothes were dry, he hurriedly began to dress himself.
Together, the three men made an investigation of the camp's
resources, only to discover that Branch was right. There was,
indeed, but little food of any kind, and that little was of the
coarsest. Ordinarily, such a condition of affairs would have
occasioned them no surprise, for the men were becoming accustomed
to a more or less chronic scarcity of provisions; but the presence
of Norine Evans put quite a different complexion upon the matter.
Pages:
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276