“Hello, boys! Whoo-hoo!”
“It’s the Angel!” said Shoshone, springing forward to meet her.
“Good-morning, Shoshone,” said she, cordially.
“Morning, Angel. What you doin’ down so early?”
“On my way to Silver Bill’s. I told them I’d come back to-day. He’s out of tobacco, too, and I want some to take him.”
“Won’t it—won’t it be bad for the kids?” asked Shoshone, with an anxious look.
“Oh, no; he can smoke out-of-doors. As for the boy, he’ll smoke some day himself, and as to the girl, she’ll have to get used to it some day, anyhow.”
“With our compliments and best wishes, Angel. We’ve got a case of preserves here from the East. If it was not asking too much of you, now would you give Mrs. Silver Bill a dozen jars?”
“I’ll carry one over. That’s all I can manage to-day.”
“I’ll send a man over with the rest in the morning, and some sardines, some canned salmon and Boston beans—just the things for an invalid, aren’t they?”