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"Home soon," Dave suggested cheerfully to his captors. "I sure am hungry enough to eat a government mailsack. A flank steak would make a big hit with me." Jeff looked at him in the dour, black Rutherford way. "This is no picnic, you'll find." "Not to you, but it's a great vacation for me. I feel a hundred per cent better since I got up into all this ozone and scenery."
Old Man Hard Luck's campin' on his trail sure enough. The banks'll be shakin' their heads at his paper soon." The stage had stopped to take on a mailsack. Now it started again, and the rest of the talk was lost to Dave. But he had heard enough to guess that the old feud between Crawford and Steelman had taken on a new phase, one in which his friend was likely to get the worst of it.