I waited there for some little time. Then I saw that by squeezing between
two plies of lumber could reach the other side of the platform. When I
reached the railing I climbed over, and, with the help of braces and posts,
soon got to where I could drop down. Once on the ground I ran along under
the platform until I saw a lane that led to the street. My one thought was
to reach the cabin where the Negro cook stayed and ask him if Dick Leslie
had come to camp. If he had not arrived, then I intended to make a bee-line
for my mustang.
VI. DICK LESLIE, RANGER
Which end of the street I entered I had no idea. The cabins were all alike,
and in my hurry I would have passed the cook's shack had it not been for
the sight of a man standing in the door. That stalwart figure I would have
known anywhere.
"Dick!" I cried, rushing at him.
What Dick's welcome was I did not hear, but judging from the grip he put on
my shoulders and then on my hands, he was glad to see me.
"Ken, blessed if I'd have known you," he said, shoving me back at
arm's-length. "Let's have a look at you. . . . Grown I say, but you're a
husky lad!"
While he was looking at me I returned the scrutiny with interest. Dick had
always been big, but now he seemed wider and heavier. Among these bronzed
Westerners he appeared pale, but that was only on account of his fair skin.
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