Outside the house he came upon the girl and the youth standing in the sunshine of a bright, new day. They were talking together in a most animated manner, and as he approached wondering what the two had found of so great common interest he discovered that the discussion hinged upon the relative merits of ham and bacon as a breakfast dish. “Oh, my heart it is just achin',” quoted Bridge, “For a little bite of bacon, “A hunk of bread, a little mug of brew; “I'm tired of seein' scenery, “Just lead me to a beanery “Where there's something more than only air to chew.” The two looked up, smiling. “You're a funny kind of tramp, to be quoting poetry,” said The Oskaloosa Kid, “even if it is Knibbs'.” “Almost as funny,” replied Bridge, “as a burglar who recognizes Knibbs when he hears him.” The Oskaloosa Kid flushed. “He wrote for us of the open road,” he replied quickly. “I don't know of any other class of men who should enjoy him more.” “Or any other class that is less familiar with him,” retorted Bridge; “but the burning question just now is pots, not poetry--flesh pots. I'm hungry. I could eat a cow.” The girl pointed to an adjacent field. “Help yourself,” she said. “That happens to be a bull,” said Bridge. “I was particular to mention cow, which, in this instance, is proverbially less dangerous than the male, and much better eating. “'We kept a-rambling all the time. I rustled grub, he rustled rhyme-- “'Blind baggage, hoof it, ride or climb--we always put it through.' Who's going to rustle the grub?” The girl looked at The Oskaloosa Kid. “You don't seem like a tramp at all, to talk to,” she said; “but I suppose you are used to asking for food. I couldn't do it--I should die if I had to.” The Oskaloosa Kid looked uncomfortable. “So should--” he commenced, and then suddenly subsided. “Of course I'd just as soon,” he said. “You two stay here--I'll be back in a minute.” They watched him as he walked down to the road and until he disappeared over the crest of the hill a short distance from the Squibbs' house. “I like him,” said the girl, turning toward Bridge. “So do I,” replied the man. “There must be some good in him,” she continued, “even if he is such a desperate character; but I know he's not The Oskaloosa Kid. Do you really suppose he robbed a house last night and then tried to kill that Dopey person?” Bridge shook his head. “I don't know,” he said; “but I am inclined to believe that he is more imaginative than criminal. He certainly shot up the Dopey person; but I doubt if he ever robbed a house.” While they waited, The Oskaloosa Kid trudged along the muddy road to the nearest farm house, which lay a full mile beyond the Squibbs' home. As he approached the door a lank, sallow man confronted him with a suspicious eye. “Good morning,” greeted The Oskaloosa Kid. The man grunted. “I want to get something to eat,” explained the youth.