"When I'm rested," said he, "I'll wring out my clothes. By the time we've had a snack o' soggy grub I'll be dry. An' then we'll go on."
"On it is!"
Billy looked up.
"Archie," said he, "that was marvellous—clever!"
"Clever?" inquired Archie. "What was clever?"
And Archie Armstrong grinned. He knew well enough what was clever.
Nobody was mad at Poor Luck Barrens. But somebody was in a raving delirium of fever. And that was big George Tulk—Trapper George of Bread-and-Butter Tickle. It was a tight little tilt on the edge of the timber—winter quarters: a log shanty, with a turf roof, deep in a drift of snow, to which a rising cloud of smoke attracted the attention of Archie and Billy Topsail. No; what was alarming at Poor Luck Barrens was not a frenzy of insanity—it was the delirium of pneumonia.
Jinny Tulk was glad enough to receive the help of Billy Topsail and Archie Armstrong.
By and by Billy asked: