"You—you dam' old fool!" he cried, affectionately.
Linton smiled with delight. "Give it to me," he urged. "Lam into me,
Jerry. I deserve it. Gosh! I was lonesome!"
A half-hour later the two friends were lying side by side in their bed and the stove was glowing comfortably. They had ceased shivering. Old Jerry had "spooned" up close to old Tom and his bodily heat was grateful.
Linton eyed the fire with tender yearning. "That's a good stove you got."
"She's a corker, ain't she?"
"I been thinking about trading you a half interest in my tent for a half interest in her."
"The trade's made." There was a moment of silence. "What d'you say we hook up together—sort of go pardners for a while? I got a long outfit and a short boat. I'll put 'em in against yours. I bet we'd get along all right. I'm onnery, but I got good points."
Mr. Linton smiled dreamily. "It's a go. I need a good partner."
"I'll buy a new fryin'-pan out of my money. Mine got split, somehow."
Tom chuckled. "You darned old fool!" said he.