"Well, that isn't here or there," said Tom after a pause. "What are we to do just now?"
"Let us push on to town first," answered Songbird. "After that, we can rearrange our plans if we wish."
This was considered good advice, and once again they urged their steeds along. Coming to a high point in the trail, they made out Caville a mile distant, and rode into the town about noon.
It was not much of a place, and the single hotel afforded only the slimmest of accommodations. But they had to be satisfied, and so made the best of it.
The meal over, Dick strolled into the office of the tavern, where he found the proprietor sitting in a big wooden chair leaning against the counter.
"Quite a town," began the eldest Rover cheerfully.
"Wall, it ain't so bad but what it might be wuss, stranger. Did the grub suit ye?"
"It did."
"Glad to hear it, stranger. Sometimes the folks from the big cities find fault. Expect me to run a reg'lar Aster-Delmonicum, or sumthin' like that."
"It is very hard to suit everybody," said Dick. "By the way," he went on, "do you know a man around these parts named Sack Todd?"
