Blake laughed and regarded his grinning and expectant outfit, and the longer he looked at them the more he laughed. They had paid their respects to the women while Silent explained about the travois and now they cast many longing glances at the blankets and cloths spread out on the grass and at the baskets which Bill was busy over. They had tried to coax the driver to them to give information as to what they might expect in the way of edibles, but he had haughtily and disdainfully refused to enlighten them, taking care, however, to arouse their curiosity by looking fondly at the box and the baskets and even showed his elation by taking several fancy steps for their benefit. "Well, get rid of the cayuses," said Blake, "and square things with Humble. Bring him back with you or you don't get any pie. You're such a darn fool crowd that I can't get mad this time, but don't ever drag a man in a travois again." "Did he come, or was he kidnapped?" murmured Bud. "What we did once we can do again, and Humble will be on hand when the feast begins." Jim had been scowling at Bill, whose manners were most aggravating. "You just wait, you heathen," threatened Jim. "You're ace high with the grub, all right, but just you wait 'til we get you alone!" "Yah!" laughed the driver. "I shore can handle the best cow-wrastler that ever lived." "Bill seems to be running this here festival," Bud complained to Helen. "Oh, he is our right-hand man," she replied with enthusiasm. "We couldn't possibly get along without him, now. He has charge of the pie and cake." Bill's chest expanded: "I'm foreman of the pie and cake herd," he exclaimed proudly. "You can't get ahead of me." Bud looked at the driver and then significantly waved his hand at the travois: "And you'll shore travel in style, just like a real pie foreman, too, when we gets a chance to honor you like we wants to." "You'll get no pie if you acts smart, little boy," retorted the driver. "Run along and play till lunch is ready, and don't dirty your hands and face." "Well, we've got fine memories," Bud suggested as he led the way to the corrals, where he found The Orphan. "Hullo, Orphan!" he cried enthusiastically as he gripped the outstretched hand. "Plumb glad to see you. How's things?" "Glad to see you, boys," cried the temporary foreman, who was all smiles. "One at a time!" he laughed as they crowded about him. "Make yourselves right at home--that smallest corral is for your cayuses. And you'll find plenty of soap and water and towels by the bunk-house, and there's a box of good cigars, a tin of tobacco, and a jug on the table inside. Help yourself to anything you want, the place is all yours." "Gee, this is a good game, all right," Bud laughed as he turned to put his horse in the corral. "The sheriff shore knows how to deal." "Leave a cigar for me, Silent," jokingly warned Jim as his friend turned toward the bunk-house. "Too many smokes will make you sick."