"I'll baby you!" said Peter, with a ferocious smile. "Yes, old Gilbert, we're friends, or I shouldn't have picked us as the fittest for this trip."
"Good you did, for the fittest have the reputation of surviving."
"Let up on the croaks," Peter spoke abruptly. "Have you noticed any fearful dangers, that you apprehend non-survival of them?"
"No; but——"
"But nothing! Now, Blairsy, if you're in thoughtful mood, let's go on with that plot we started yesterday."
"What plot?' asked Shelby.
"Oh, a great motive for a story or play. Setting up here in the Labrador wilds and——"
Shelby yawned. "Mind if I doze off?" he said; "this fire is soporific——"
"Don't mind a bit," returned Peter gayly; "rather you would, then Gil and I can maudle on as we like."
And they did. Both were of a literary turn, and though they had achieved nothing of importance as yet, both hoped to write sooner or later.