"Hot-box on the diner; see it?"

"Yes, and smell it. Let's go down."

But Craig shook his head lazily, and Wade, cinching his loosened belt,
limped with aching legs down the slope. The trainmen were already
pulling the smouldering, evil-smelling waste from the box, and after
watching a minute he loitered along the track beside the car. Several of
the shades were raised and the sight of the gleaming white napery and
silver brought a wistful gleam to his eyes. But there was worse to come.
At the last table a belated diner was still eating. He was a large man
with a double chin, under which he had tucked a corner of his napkin. He
ate leisurely, but with gusto.

"Hot roast beef," groaned Wade, "and asparagus and little green beans!
Oh Lord!"

He suddenly felt very empty, and mechanically tightened his leather belt
another inch. It came over him all at once that he was frightfully
hungry. For the last two days he and his partner had been travelling on
short rations, and to-day they had been on the go since before sun-up.
For a moment the wild idea came to him of jumping on the train and
riding down to Aroya just so he could take a seat in the dining-car and
eat his fill.

"They wouldn't make much out of me at a dollar a throw," he reflected,
with a grin. But it wouldn't be fair to Craig, and he abandoned the idea
in the next breath. He couldn't stand there any longer, though, and see
that man eat. He addressed himself to the closed window before he turned