"Say, young feller!" he bellowed. "Cut out that mush, and lend a hand with this fire. Get some wood, and plenty—quick!"
Madison made no retort. He was too weak to care. Besides, Bill was right. He had no business to think only of himself when they were both making a last stand for life itself. Hastily gathering an armful of small twigs, he threw them on the fire. As he watched the flames leap up, his mate still grumbled:
"This ain't no time for foolin'. I should think yer'd try to get us out of this mess, instead of wastin' time mooning-over that picture."
Madison stooped over the fire and warmed his frozen hands. Shivering, he said:
"Bill—you don't know—how can you know?—what that picture means to me. It's all that's left to me. I never expect to see her again. I guess we'll both leave our carcasses here for the vultures to feed on. I can't go on much longer like this without food or shelter. I'm almost ready to cash in myself."
The other doggedly bit on a piece of ice and said nothing. Madison continued:
"If I gave up three square meals a day and a comfortable bed to come out here and die in this infernal hole, it was only for her sake. We were to get married soon. I promised to go back with a fortune, and she said she'd wait for me——"
The figure crouching on the other side of the fire chuckled grimly:
"Wait for you, eh?" he echoed dubiously.
"Yes, wait for me—why not?" snapped John.