Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to RichesWebster, Frank V.
General
Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to Riches
Webster, Frank V.
Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction
Tall and inordinately thin, the man's clothes seemed simply to hang from
his shoulders. His hair, of a curious rusty gray, seemed to stick out
from under the faded straw hat, and his whole appearance suggested
nothing so much as a scarecrow.
Despite the man's ungainly appearance, however, his face was one that
would attract and hold attention. So thin was it that it seemed as
though the cheek bones would any minute pierce the bronzed skin, and
from under bushy eyebrows two restless black eyes glistened.
Like Bob, this man surveyed his fellow passengers, giving them, however,
only a momentary glance, until his eyes rested upon Bob, and upon him
they lingered, glancing him over from head to foot, and then dropping to
the lunch-box which was on the floor.
During this inspection of himself, Bob had also been examining the man
more closely, and had discovered that his forehead was marked with a
deep scar.
"You don't happen to have any lunch in that box, do you, that you would
be willing to sell me?" asked the stranger. "I didn't have time to get
any before I started. In fact, I came mighty near losing the train as it
was, and there won't be any station where I can get anything before
noon."
"Why, yes," replied Bob; "that is, I have some lunch. But I won't sell
it to you. You are welcome to some of it, if you would like it."
How the man had been able to divine that his package contained food,
Bob could not understand. But had the boy been as keen an observer as
the stranger, he would have noticed that the paper on one end of the box
was saturated with grease, causing the obvious inference that some sort
of food was wrapped up inside.
"I don't like to take your grub for nothing, son," returned the other,
"but I sure am hungry. I have always made it a rule never to accept
anything from any one without giving something in return. So I tell you
what I'll do. If you're sure you won't accept any money, and will give
me a bite, when the train stops for dinner, I'll pay for whatever you
want to eat."
"That seems fair," returned Bob, "but I should be just as willing to
give you some, even if you didn't return it."
While Bob had been speaking, he had picked up the box, broken the
string, unwrapped the paper and opened it, after which he held it out to
the stranger, saying:
"Help yourself."
To Bob's surprise, the man accepted the invitation literally--and took
the whole box, which he rested on his knee. Though it contained cake and
pie, hard-boiled eggs, and several sandwiches, the stranger exercised no
choice of selection, but began at one end of the box and ate everything
just as it came.
Naturally Bob had supposed that the man would eat possibly only a couple
of eggs and one or two sandwiches, with perhaps even a piece of cake or
a piece of pie. But as he saw one piece of food disappearing after
another, and remembered that the stranger had asked only for a bite, he
wondered what he would require to make a full meal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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