“Smoke’s keepin’ house, Swickey. Reckon he’ll be jumpin’ glad to see you.”
“Of course. Poor old Smoke. When we get rich, he’s going to stay with me all the time.”
“If he lives long enough, I reckon he will, eh, Jim?”
“No tellin’,” replied Cameron, with profound solemnity; “no tellin’. I’ve knowed worse things than thet to happen.”
“Worse things than what?” said Swickey, “getting rich?”
“Egg-sackly,” replied Curious Jim. “Gettin’ rich ain’t the worst. It takes a heap of money to keep on bein’ rich; thet’s the worst of it. Kind of a bad habit to git into. Ain’t worried ’bout it myself,” he added. “I got a plenty of other business to think of.”
Avery did not ask Jim what his “other business” was beside teaming and doing odd jobs for the Lumber Company, for he realized the teamster’s chief concern in life was to see what “other folks” were doing, although, speaking “by and large,” Cameron’s inquisitiveness was prompted by a solicitude for the welfare of his friends. Upon his lean shoulders Curious Jim carried the self-imposed burden of an Atlas.
Slowly the horses toiled over the corduroy stretch, and presently Cameron’s camp became visible through the trees.
“Here we be at the Knoll. Now, you and Swickey come in and have suthin’ hot. It’s gettin’ dark and colder than a steel trap in January.”
“You go in yourself, Jim. Me and Swickey’ll wait. We be kind of anxious to git home. Smoke’s been in the house sence mornin’ and I reckon the fire’s out and he ain’t had nuthin’ to eat.”