"Oh, south or west," replied the other. "Nowhere in
particular--any place suits me just so it isn't north or east."
"That's me," said Billy.
"Let's travel double, then," said the poetical one. "My
name's Bridge."
"And mine's Billy. Here, shake," and Byrne extended his
hand.
"Until one of us gets wearied of the other's company," said
Bridge.
"You're on," replied Billy. "Let's turn in."
"Good," exclaimed Bridge. "I wonder what's keeping
James. He should have been here long since to turn down my
bed and fix my bath."
Billy grinned and rolled over on his side, his head uphill
and his feet toward the fire. A couple of feet away Bridge
paralleled him, and in five minutes both were breathing deeply
in healthy slumber.
CHAPTER III
"FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS REWARD"
"'WE KEPT a-rambling all the time. I rustled grub, he rustled
rhyme,'" quoted Billy Byrne, sitting up and stretching himself.
His companion roused and came to one elbow. The sun
was topping the scant wood behind them, glinting on the
surface of the little creek. A robin hopped about the sward
quite close to them, and from the branch of a tree a hundred
yards away came the sweet piping of a song bird. Farther off
were the distance-subdued noises of an awakening farm.
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