Jonas cleared his throat. "I was thinking of the Na-che."
"My word!" exclaimed Harden. "Say, Ag, would you want our boat renamed the Na-che?"
"Who'd repaint the name?" asked Agnew carefully. "That's the point with me."
"The trouble with you, Ag," said Harden, "is that you haven't any soul."
"I'd do the painting," Jonas went on eagerly. "I was thinking of getting her all fixed up with that can of paint I see to-day. Red paint, it was."
"Do you think that Na-che would mind our making free with her name?"
Milton's tone was serious.
"Mind!" cried Jonas. "Well, if you knew women like I do you'd never ask a question like that! A woman would rather have a boat or a race horse named after her any time than have a baby named for her. I know women!"
"In that case, let's rename the Mary," said Milton. "Everybody ready to turn in?"
"I am, sir," replied Harden. "Jonas, you turn off the lights and put the cat down cellar. Good night, everybody!"
Jonas chuckled and hobbled off to his blankets. It was not seven o'clock when the rude camp was silent and every soul in it in profound slumber.