"Your soogans are gathering frost to beat the band, Bill," the foreman informed him, following his glance to the bunk. "Your inexperience is something appalling, for a man that has fried his own bacon and swabbed out his own frying-pan as many times as you have. Better go bring 'em in. It was thinking about snowing again when I come."
Billy grinned a little and went after his bedding, brought it and threw it with a fine disregard for order upon the accumulation of boxes and benches in the bunk. "I'll go feed the hosses, and then I'll cook yuh some supper," he told the foreman still humped comfortably before the stove with his fur coat thrown open to the heat and his spurred boots hoisted upon the hearth. "Better make up your mind to stay till morning; it's getting mighty chilly, outside."
The foreman, at the critical stage of cigarette lighting, grunted unintelligibly. Billy was just laying hand to the door-knob when the foreman looked toward him in the manner of one about to speak. Billy stood and waited inquiringly.
"Say, Bill," drawled Jawbreaker, "yuh never told me her name, yet."
The brows of Charming Billy pinched involuntarily together. "I thought the Pilgrim had wised yuh up to all the details," he said coldly.
"The Pilgrim didn't know; he says yuh never introduced him. And seeing it's serious enough to start yuh on the godly trail uh cleanliness, I'm naturally taking a friendly interest in her, and—"
"Aw—go to hell!" snapped Charming Billy, and went out and slammed the door behind him so that the cabin shook.
CHAPTER V.
The Man From Michigan.
"How old is she, Billy boy, Billy boy,