At this slowly emerged from between two large barrels the figure of a gaunt, frowsy-headed man――like a dog crawling out of a kennel. The man must have been asleep. He yawned and stretched and stared. “Howdy?” “Howdy, strangers.” “What do you keep?” “Everything.” “Got any dried apples?” demanded Left-over, eagerly. “Nary apple.” “Got any crackers?” “Nary cracker.” “Any ham?” queried Hi. “Nary ham.” “Any molasses?” asked Billy. “Nary molasses.” “Any salt?” asked Jim. “Nary salt.” “What have you got, then?” “Pickles and smokin’ tobacco, strangers. Which’ll you have?” “That’s a great grocery stock!” scoffed Billy, as the Hee-Haw party proceeded. “Pickles and smoking tobacco!” “I should say!” agreed Davy. “Not much chance for a pie there!” “I didn’t s’pose the country was going to be as bad as this,” whined Left-over, from the wagon seat. “Wait till you strike the wust of it,” answered Jim. “Somebody’s broken down ahead, hasn’t he?” queried the Reverend Mr. Baxter. “Looks so. We’ll go on and make camp there, anyway, and see,” directed Captain Hi. The trail had veered apart from the Smoky Hill Fork and was cutting through a wide, flat bottom-land, grown to short buffalo grass and a few cottonwood trees. In the midst of the stretch was a “prairie schooner,” halted, its white hood just visible in the gathering dusk. Lonely enough it looked, too――solitary there with not another token of human life near it. It did not have even a camp-fire. In the twilight the Hee-Haw Express drew upon it and halted also. The owner of the wagon was sitting on the tongue, smoking an old clay pipe. “Howdy, strangers?” he greeted, coolly. “Howdy,” they responded; and suddenly Billy nudged Davy and pointed to the wagon hood. “Pike’s Peak or Bust!” said the one sign; and under that had been added: “Busted, by Thunder!” “What’s the matter, pardner? Stuck?” asked Captain Hi. The man jerked his thumb toward the wagon hood. “Read for yoreself, stranger,” he bade. “Busted!” “Where’s your party?” “I’m the party. I sent the old woman and the kids back by stage, and I air hyar and hyar I stay, I reckon.” “Where are your animals?” “My critters war a hoss and a caow, hitched together. Injuns stole my hoss; the old caow’s had a calf daown in the willows; and I’m busted. How far to Pike’s Peak yet?” “’Bout five hundred miles.” “Wall,” drawled the man, yawning, “in case my old woman doesn’t find another outfit back at the Missouri I reckon I can wait till the calf grows up.” “Nothing we can do for you?” invited Mr. Baxter. The man slowly shook his head. “Nope, stranger. I air comfortable. ’Bout two miles on you’ll find a better campin’ place. Water and fuel right around hyar I’m goin’ to need, myself.” So, thus politely dismissed, the Hee-Haw Express moved along until, where the trail crossed a creek, they found the wood and water.