"We'll have to get some more grub before long," was the reply, "or it'll
be appetite and nothing else with us. I can eat bacon with the next man,
but I don't want to feast on it six days running. What we need, Wade, is
variety."

"And plenty of it," sighed the other, stretching his tired legs and
finding a new position. "The fact is, even after this banquet I feel a
little hollow."

"Same here, but I figure we'd better go a little short till we get
nearer town. We ought to strike Bosa Grande to-morrow night."

"Why not hop the train and go down to Aroya? We can find some real grub
there."

"Couldn't get back before to-morrow afternoon. What's the good of
wasting a whole day?"

"Looks to me like we'd wasted about twenty of them already, Ed."

Craig made no reply. He fished a corn-cob pipe and a little sack of
tobacco from his pocket and began to fill the bowl. Wade watched for a
moment in silence. Then, with a protesting groan, he rolled over until
he could get at his own pipe. Craig drew an ember from the edge of the
fire with calloused fingers, held it to his bowl and passed it on to
Wade. Then with grunts of contentment they settled back against the
sagging canvas of their tent and puffed wreaths of acrid smoke into the
twilight.