"He didn't," said Sam. "I hid them."
All four turned on him in astonishment. "What did you do that for?" demanded Joe, open-mouthed.
"I hid them to keep you from blowing the tops of each other's heads off before morning," said Sam coolly. "Turn in and forget it."
Joe took a step toward him. "By George, we don't need no cook to tell us what to do!" he cried. "I'll teach you——"
"You fool!" said Sam scornfully. "It's nothing to me if you want to shoot each other. I'll tell you where they are. Only I'll move on by your leave. I don't want to be mixed up in any wholesale murders. The guns are altogether—they're——"
"Stop!" cried Jack in a great voice. "He's right," he said, turning to the others. "Let the guns be till morning. Let every man turn in. Are you with me, Shand?"
"Sure!" he muttered.
"Me, too," added Husky from the bed, somewhat unnecessarily. "I need sleep."
The storm blew over. Joe went to his corner, muttering. Jack and Shand lay down between him and Sam. Sam fell asleep calmly. By and by Husky began to snore. The others lay feigning sleep, each ready to spring up at the slightest move from one of his fellows.
Shortly after dawn they arose simultaneously from their wretched beds with muttered curses. They looked at each other blackly. In the uncompromising light of morning all were alike weary, sore, and dispirited.