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They hain't soaked a mite to-day, mum, and they ain't goin' to; they've hove the jug into a snowdrift, and they'd take it kind, mum if you are willin'." The woman, still smiling happily, was already wrapping up the baby. Breem held up a warning finger when he returned a little later, and again smiled delightedly.
Beetle Ring camp passed an uneasy day, the "jug" for once receiving scant attention. Late in the afternoon "Trapper John," an old half-breed who hunted and trapped about the woods, stopped at the camp to get warm. "Didn't see anybody with a horse last night or this morning, eh, John?" asked Posey Breem. "Um, yes," responded the old trapper, quickly. "Saw um horse las' night man ride big foot so."
Posey Breem yawned lazily as he threw open the door of his particular stall, then suddenly brought himself together with a jerk and stared fixedly. "What ails you now, Pose? Seen a ghost?" "Skid" Thomson stopped with the big measure of feed which he was carrying. "No, I've seen no ghost," said Breem slowly, still staring. "Look here, Skid!"
Old John held out his arms in exaggerated illustration. Beetle Ring rose to its feet as one man. "What colour was the horse, John?" asked Breem softly. "Huh! Can't see good after dark, but think um roan." Breem looked slowly round the silent camp, and Beetle Ring grimly made ready for business. It was evening when the men stopped a few rods below the shack.
"And I've been thinking," continued Breem, "since Bennett there belonged to the camp, and since we kind of misused the fellow for being stingy for which we ought to have been smashed with logs that we have a kind of a claim on 'em, as 'twere, and they on us. And we must get 'em out of that yonder before they freeze plumb solid." He stopped inquiringly. "Right as right," assented several.
A light shone out from a window, lighting up a little space in the sombre woods. "The fellow's got pals prob'bly," said Posey Breem. "You wait here while I do a little scouting." Breem crept cautiously into the circle of light, and glancing through the uncurtained window, saw his man with his "pals."
"And I'd just sewed up his blamed foot!" muttered the cook in disgust. "Maybe we'll catch him. Up to Fat Pine two years ago," began Breem, reminiscently, "Big Donovan had a horse stole. They caught the fellow." "Yes, I remember," said Skid Thomson. "I was there. We caught him up north." The men nodded understandingly and approvingly. "Wuth a hundred and fifty dollars, the roan was," said Breem.
The lumberman grinned delightedly, then coughed a little, and began awkwardly: "Pard, th' boys over at Beetle Ring heard as you might say, accidental" Breem coughed into his big hand "about your folks over here, your wife and the baby. They were powerful interested, specially about the baby.
Big tears were in the woman's eyes as she turned toward her husband. "Oh, Joe," she said, and choked suddenly; but she pressed the baby tightly to her breast. "I knew 'twould come Thanksgiving." "There, pard," said Breem, after blowing his nose explosively, "you just see to wrappin' up the woman and the kid, and me and Skid, being as you're hurt, you know, 'll tote 'em out to the sleigh."
"I ain't overmuch given to advising prowling round folks' houses, but you fellows just look in yonder." He jerked his head toward the shack. And a line of big, rough-looking men filed into the little illumined space, to come back presently silent and subdued. "Now let's go home," said Breem, turning his horse toward camp. "And your horse, Pose?" questioned Bates.
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