"Never seen such a blamed fool as you in all my days," replied Tom, as he stared savagely into Dennis's mild blue eyes. "You'd hurt yerself rockin' a baby's cradle, you would. 'Bout time you quit men's work, ain't it?"
"Not yet," said Dennis.
During these weeks upon the river Dennis had not seen anything of Mamie. Tom Barker, as supreme boss, visited all crews, and then returned to his wife, with either a leer or a frown upon his face. She had come to loathe the leer more than the frown. In the different camps the boys told the same story--
"He knocks the stuffin' out of her!"
The stay-at-home Briton, warm with roast beef and indigestion, will wonder that one man amongst a hundred should be suffered to ill-treat a thin, dough-faced little woman. Why did they not arise and slaughter him? Had Tom stolen a colt in the cattle-country he would have been lynched. Let publicists resolve the problem!
Finally, one Sunday morning, Dennis and Mamie met again.
"Holy Mackinaw!" exclaimed Dennis.
"Anything wrong?"
"Everything."
"I don't understand." But, of course, she did.