Mrs. Shields hurried into the room and then paused in surprise when she saw that the outfit had not moved toward the feast.

"Land sakes!" she cried. "Aren't you boys hungry, or is James up to some of his everlasting teasing again!"

"You talk to her, Bud," whispered Jim eagerly. "I'm so scary I sh.o.r.e can't."

"Yes, go ahead, Bud!" came instant and unanimous endors.e.m.e.nt in whispers.

"Well, ma'am," began Bud, clearing his throat, glancing around uneasily to be sure that the crowd was giving him moral backing, and feeling uncomfortable, "we was just getting up a--a----"

"B, C, D," prompted Jim in a whisper.

"We was just getting up a resolution of thanks, Mrs. Shields," he continued, stabbing his elbow into the stomach of the offending Jim.

"You shut up!" he fiercely whispered. "I'm carrying one hundred and forty pounds now without the saddle!" Then he continued: "We all of us are plumb tickled about this, so plumb tickled we don't hardly know what to say----"

"That's right," whispered Jim, folding his arms across his stomach.

"You're proving it, all right."

Silent and Jack hauled Jim to the rear and Bud continued unruffled: "But we want to thank you, ma'am, from the bottoms, the very lowest bottoms of our hearts for your kindness to a orphant outfit what ain't had anything to eat since the war, and very little during it. Joe Haines, here, ma'am, was just saying as how he was a-scared that it is all a dream----"

"I didn't neither!" fiercely contradicted Joe in a whisper, looking very self-conscious. He was whisked to the rear to join Jim and the speech went on.

"He is afraid it is a dream, ma'am, and I know we all of us have more or less doubts about it being really true. But, ma'am, we sh.o.r.e are anxious to find out all about it. We've rid thirty miles to see for ourselves, and I don't reckon you'll have any fears about our appet.i.tes being left at home when you sizes up the wreck left in the path of the storm after the stampede is over. The boys want to give you three cheers even if it is Sunday, ma'am, for your kindness to them, and I'm sh.o.r.e one of the boys!"

"Hip, hip, horray!" yelled the crowd, surging forward.

"Good boy, Bud!" they cried.

"I'm proud of you, Buddie!" exulted Charley, slapping him extra heartily on the back.

"I didn't know you had it in you, Bud!" cried Silent. "It was sh.o.r.e a dandy speech, all right."

"We'll send you to Congress for that, some day, Bud," cried Jack Lawson.

"You're all right!"

"I once had a piece of pie, a piece of pie, a piece of pie, I once had a piece of pie, when I was five years old,"

sang Charley as he pranced toward the door.

"Good! Go on, Charley, go on!" cried his companions joyously.

"Now I'll have another piece, another piece, another piece, Now I'll have another piece, that's two all told.

Good bye, Lee Lung, good bye Lee Lung, Good bye, Lee Lung, we're going to forget you now!"

"Again on that Lee Lung, altogether--it hits me right!" cried Bud, and the matter pertaining to the farewells to Lee Lung was promptly and properly attended to in heartfelt sincerity.

The ladies laughed with delight, and Mrs. Shields whispered to her husband, who nodded and escorted The Orphan to a seat near the head of the table, where he was flanked by Helen and Blake.

"Grab your partners, boys," the sheriff cried, pointing to the chairs.

There was a hasty piling of belts and guns on the ground, and after much confusion all were seated.

The sheriff arose: "Boys, Mrs. Shields wants me to tell you how pleased she is to have you all here. She has felt plumb sorry about you and she sh.o.r.e has shuddered at the thought of a Chinee cook----"

"Which same we all do--it's chronic," interposed Jim to laughter.

"She wants you to make yourselves at home," continued the sheriff, "learn the lay of the land around this range and never forget the trail leading here, because she insists that when any of you come to town you have simply got to pay us a visit and see if there is a piece of pie or cake to eat before you go back to that cook. And Tom says that he'll fire the first man who renigs----"

"I'm going to carry the mail hereafter!" cried Bud, scowling fiercely at Joe.

"Not if I can shoot first, you don't!" retorted the mail carrier. "I was just a-wondering if it wouldn't be better to come in twice a week for it instead of once. We might get more letters."

"We'll bid for your job next year," laughed Silent.

"Before I coax you to eat," continued the sheriff, "I----"

"Wrong word, Sheriff," interposed Humble. "Not coax, but force."

"I am going to ask you to reverse things a little, and drink a standing toast to the man who saved the stage, to the man who saved Miss Ritchie and my sisters and who made this dinner possible. This would be far from a happy day but for him. I want you to drink to the long life and happiness of The Orphan. All up!"

The clink of gla.s.ses was lost in the spontaneous cheer which burst from the lips of the former outlaw's new friends, and he sat confused and embarra.s.sed with a sudden timidity, his face crimson.

"Speech!" cried Jim, the others joining in the cry. "Speech! Speech!"

Finally, after some urging, The Orphan slowly arose to his feet, a foolish smile playing about his lips.

"It wasn't anything," he said deprecatingly. "You all would have done it, every one of you. But I'm glad it was me. I'm glad I was on hand, although it wasn't anything to make all this fuss about," and he dropped suddenly into his seat, feeling hot and uncomfortable.

"Well, we have different ideas about its being nothing," replied the sheriff. "Now, boys, a toast to Bill Halloway," he requested. "Bill couldn't get here to-day, but we mustn't forget him. His splendid grit and driving made it possible for our friend to play his hand so well."

"Hurrah for Bill!" cried Silent, leaping to his feet with the others. When seated again he looked quickly at his gla.s.s and turned to Bud.

"Real sweet cider!" he exulted. "Good Lord, but how time gallops past!

I'd almost forgotten what it was like! It's been over twenty years since I tasted any! Ain't it fine?"

"I was wondering what it was," remarked Humble, a trace of awe in his voice as he refilled his gla.s.s. "It's sh.o.r.e enough sweet cider, and blamed good, too!"

Charley was romping with the mail carrier and he had a sudden inspiration: "Speech from Joe! Speech for the pieces of pie and cake he's due to get!"

"Now, look here, boy," Joe gravely replied. "I'm the mail carrier. I don't have to go on jury duty, lead religion round-ups, go to war or make speeches. As the books say, I'm exempt. All I have to do is punch cows, rustle the mail and eat pie and cake once a week," he said, glancing at Bud, who glared and groaned.

"Good boy, Joe!" cried Humble, waving his gla.s.s excitedly. "You're sh.o.r.e all right, you are, and I'm your deputy, ain't I?"

"No, not my deputy, but my delirium," corrected Joe.

"Glory be!" cried Silent as his plate was pa.s.sed to him. "Chicken, real chicken! Mashed potatoes, mashed turnips and dressing and gravy! And here comes stewed corn, boiled onions and jelly and mother's bread. And stewed tomatoes? Well, well! I guess we ain't going to be well fed, and real happy, eh, fellows? My stomach won't know what's the matter--it'll think it died and went to heaven by mistake. Holy smoke! It hurts my eyes. What, cranberry jam? Well, I'm just going to close my eyes for a minute if you don't mind; I want to recuperate from the shock. This is where I live again!"

Humble stared in rapture at the feast before him and finally heaved a long drawn sigh of doubt and content.

"Gee!" he cried softly, a far-away look in his eyes. "Look at it, just look at it! Just like I used to get when I was a little tad back in Connecticut--but that was sh.o.r.e a long time ago. Well," he exclaimed, bracing up and bravely forgetting his boyhood, "there's one thing I hope, and that is that Lee beats my dog. Then I can shoot him and get square for all these years of imitation grub what he's handed out to me!"