“Quit it!” he burst out with sudden fury, as the other struck into a gaily lifting swing. “It drives me mad. I can’t stand it”
Pentfield tossed the banjo into a bunk and quoted:-
“Hear me babble what the weakest won’t confess—
I am Memory and Torment—I am Town!
I am all that ever went with evening dress!”
The other man winced where he sat and dropped his head forward on the table. Pentfield resumed the monotonous drumming with his knuckles. A loud snap from the door attracted his attention. The frost was creeping up the inside in a white sheet, and he began to hum:-
“The flocks are folded, boughs are bare,
The salmon takes the sea;
And oh, my fair, would I somewhere
Might house my heart with thee.”
Silence fell and was not again broken till Billebedam arrived and threw the dice box on the table.
“Um much cold,” he said. “Oleson um speak to me, um say um Yukon freeze last night.”
“Hear that, old man!” Pentfield cried, slapping Hutchinson on the shoulder. “Whoever wins can be hitting the trail for God’s country this time tomorrow morning!”
He picked up the box, briskly rattling the dice.
“What’ll it be?”