“Yes, you are not at your best, old man. How’s the foot?”
“Rotting off as a frozen member will.”
“My dear Bel, you want a tonic!” said Dallas cheerily.
“Think you will be able to live through this awful winter, Dal?”
“Live! I should think we will,” said the young man, carefully picking up and laying some of the half-burned brands on the centre of the crackling fire. “So will you.”
“No, I shall never see home again.”
“Bel, you’re a lazy beggar, with a natural dislike to cold,” said Dallas. “It always was so, and you always used to have the worst chilblains, and turn grumpy when they itched and burned. You don’t make the best of things, old chap.”
“No, Dal, I haven’t got your spirit. How many days longer will that meal last?”
“That depends, dear boy, on whether we are frugal, or go on banqueting and gorging.”
“It is dreadfully low, isn’t it?”