This meal's worth a week's work to me."
"All I got to say, young uns," interrupted Jack Jellup, the marshal,
"is that this 'ere town is yours."
Jack's idea of hospitality was an invitation to the boys to visit
the town saloons as his guest, but Ned arid Alan laughed and thanked
him, pleading weariness as a reason for declining. The final
tribute of the three guests, however, before they left, was to push
the Placida along with crowbars until it was free of the freight
house and stood where the evening breeze could freely find its way
through the windows. Then with hearty "buenos noches," ("Good
night") and promises to see that every one was on hand early in the
morning, they left.
For some time Ned, Alan and Elmer sat in camp chairs on the car
platform reveling in the glorious starlit night. From somewhere in
the little town came the sound of low singing and a Spanish air
played on the mandolin. It was all so different from the life the
boys had known that it seemed like a dream. And when their real
dreams did come it was of the not far distant Tunit Chas.
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