"Ah-h! What's the matter with you?" retorted Husky. "I only made a mistake scoring. Anybody's liable to make a mistake. If it was a real game I'd be more careful like."
"You're dead right you would," said Black Shand grimly. "You'd get daylight let through you for less."
"Well, you wouldn't do it!" snarled Husky.
Shand rose. "Go on and play by yourself," he snarled disgustedly. "Solitaire is more your style. Idiot's delight. If you catch yourself cheating yourself, you can shoot yourself for what I care!"
"Well, I can have a peaceful game, anyhow," Husky called after him, smiling complacently at getting the last word.
He forthwith dealt the cards for solitaire. Husky was a burly, red-faced, red-haired ex-brakeman, of a simple and conceited character. He was much given to childish stratagems, and was subject to fits of childish passion. He possessed enormous physical strength without much staying power.
Black Shand carried his box to the fire and sat scowling into the flames. He was of a saturnine nature, in whom anger burned slow and deep. He was a man of few words. Half a head shorter than big Jack, he showed a greater breadth of shoulders. His arms hung down like an ape's.
"How far did you walk up the shore to-day?" big Jack asked.
"Matter of two miles."
"How's the ice melting?"