"Got any tobacco, Dan? Mine's all gone."
Without a word the latter passed him part of a plug.
"A match," was the next request.
"What d'ye think I am?" was the curt reply; "a store? Get a light fer yourself," and Dan motioned to the fire. "I can't spare any matches."
Curly did as he was ordered, lighted his pipe with a small burning stick, and then stretched himself out before the fire. He was a sorry looking spectacle, and Dan watched him curiously.
"What's the matter, Curly?" he asked. "Where have you been?"
"Where d'ye think I've been?" was the surly reply. "Where do I look as if I'd been? To a Garden Party?"
"Well, no, judging by your appearance. Haven't been mauled by a grizzly, have you?"
"No, worse than a grizzly. I've been in the hands of devils, that's where I've been. And his Satanic majesty was there, too."
"H'm, it's rather early, isn't it, Curly?" and Dan grinned.