"Why don't you CALL me a liar and be done with it?"
"I do. It ain't news to anybody but you!"
Having safely landed his craft below the rapids, 'Poleon Doret hurried back to his tent to find the partners sitting knee to knee, face to face, and hurling whispered incoherencies at each other. Both men were in a poisonous mood, both were ripe for violence. They overflowed with wrath. They were glaring; they shook their fists; they were racked with fury; insult followed abuse; and the sounds that issued from their throats were like the rustlings of a corn-field in an autumn gale. Nor did inquiry elicit a sensible explanation from either.
"Heifer, eh? Drowned my own child, did I?" Tom ground his teeth in a ferocious manner.
"Don't file your tusks for me," Jerry chattered; "file the saw. We're goin' to need it."
"You men goin' cut dat boat in two again?" 'Poleon inquired, with astonishment.
"Sure. And everything we've got."
It was Linton who spoke; there was a light of triumph in his eyes, his face was ablaze with an unholy satisfaction. "We've been drawing lots for twenty minutes, and this time—I GOT THE STOVE!"
CHAPTER XVI
Once again Tom and Jerry's skiff had been halved, once again its owners smarted under the memory of insults unwarranted, of gibes that no apology could atone for. This time it had been old Jerry who cooked his supper over an open fire and old Tom who stretched the tarpaulin over his stove. Neither spoke; both were sulky, avoiding each other's eye; there was an air of bitter, implacable hostility.