“Search me,” Kit answered, snuggling in closer under the tarpaulin as the snow whirled before a fiercer gust.  “I haven’t been on a small boat since a boy.  But I guess we can learn.”

A corner of the tarpaulin tore loose, and Shorty received a jet of driven snow down the back of his neck.

“Oh, we can learn all right,” he muttered wrathfully.  “Sure we can.  A child can learn.  But it’s dollars to doughnuts we don’t even get started to-day.”

It was eight o’clock when the call for coffee came from the tent, and nearly nine before the two employers emerged.

“Hello,” said Sprague, a rosy-cheeked, well-fed young man of twenty-five.  “Time we made a start, Shorty.  You and—­” Here he glanced interrogatively at Kit.  “I didn’t quite catch your name last evening.”

“Smoke.”

“Well, Shorty, you and Mr. Smoke had better begin loading the boat.”

“Plain Smoke—­cut out the Mister,” Kit suggested.

Sprague nodded curtly and strolled away among the tents, to be followed by Doctor Stine, a slender, pallid young man.

Shorty looked significantly at his companion.  “Over a ton and a half of outfit, and they won’t lend a hand.  You’ll see.”

“I guess it’s because we’re paid to do the work,” Kit answered cheerfully, “and we might as well buck in.”

To move three thousand pounds on the shoulders a hundred yards was no slight task, and to do it in half a gale, slushing through the snow in heavy rubber boots, was exhausting.  In addition, there was the taking down of the tent and the packing of small camp equipage.  Then came the loading.  As the boat settled, it had to be shoved farther and farther out, increasing the distance they had to wade.  By two o’clock it had all been accomplished, and Kit, despite his two breakfasts, was weak with the faintness of hunger.  His knees were shaking under him.  Shorty, in similar predicament, foraged through the pots and pans, and drew forth a big pot of cold boiled beans in which were imbedded large chunks of bacon.  There was only one spoon, a long-handled one, and they dipped, turn and turn about, into the pot.  Kit was filled with an immense certitude that in all his life he had never tasted anything so good.

“Lord, man,” he mumbled between chews, “I never knew what appetite was till I hit the trail.”

Sprague and Stine arrived in the midst of this pleasant occupation.

“What’s the delay?” Sprague complained.  “Aren’t we ever going to get started?”

Shorty dipped in turn, and passed the spoon to Kit.  Nor did either speak till the pot was empty and the bottom scraped.

“Of course we ain’t been doin’ nothing,” Shorty said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “We ain’t been doin’ nothing at all.  And of course you ain’t had nothing to eat.  It was sure careless of me.”

“Yes, yes,” Stine said quickly.  “We ate at one of the tents—­ friends of ours.”