The moon was just rising, and at Uncle Lance’s suggestion we each carried in a turn of wood.  Piling a portion of it on the fire, the blaze soon lighted up the camp, throwing shafts of light far into the recesses of the woods around us.  “In another hour,” said Uncle Lance, recoaling the oven lids, “that smaller pie will be all ready to serve, but we’ll keep the big one for breakfast.  So, boys, if you want to sit up awhile longer, we’ll have a midnight lunch, and then all turn in for about forty winks.”  As the oven lid was removed from time to time to take note of the baking, savory odors of the pie were wafted to our anxious nostrils.  On the intimation that one oven would be ready in an hour, not a man suggested blankets, and, taking advantage of the lull, Theodore Quayle claimed attention.

“Another fellow and myself,” said Quayle, “were knocking around Fort Worth one time seeing the sights.  We had drunk until it didn’t taste right any longer.  This chum of mine was queer in his drinking.  If he ever got enough once, he didn’t want any more for several days:  you could cure him by offering him plenty.  But with just the right amount on board, he was a hail fellow.  He was a big, ambling, awkward cuss, who could be led into anything on a hint or suggestion.  We had been knocking around the town for a week, until there was nothing new to be seen.

“Several times as we passed a millinery shop, kept by a little blonde, we had seen her standing at the door.  Something—­it might have been his ambling walk, but, anyway, something—­about my chum amused her, for she smiled and watched him as we passed.  He never could walk along beside you for any distance, but would trail behind and look into the windows.  He could not be hurried—­not in town.  I mentioned to him that he had made a mash on the little blond milliner, and he at once insisted that I should show her to him.  We passed down on the opposite side of the street and I pointed out the place.  Then we walked by several times, and finally passed when she was standing in the doorway talking to some customers.  As we came up he straightened himself, caught her eye, and tipped his hat with the politeness of a dancing master.  She blushed to the roots of her hair, and he walked on very erect some little distance, then we turned a corner and held a confab.  He was for playing the whole string, discount or no discount, anyway.

“An excuse to go in was wanting, but we thought we could invent one; however, he needed a drink or two to facilitate his thinking and loosen his tongue.  To get them was easier than the excuse; but with the drinks the motive was born.  ‘You wait here,’ said he to me, ’until I go round to the livery stable and get my coat off my saddle.’  He never encumbered himself with extra clothing.  We had not seen our horses, saddles, or any of our belongings during the week of our visit.  When he returned he inquired, ‘Do I need a shave?’

“‘Oh, no,’ I said, ’you need no shave.  You may have a drink too many, or lack one of having enough.  It’s hard to make a close calculation on you.’