CHAPTER XV
FLOTSAM AND JETSAM
"Ellis," said Jones, earnestly, as they climbed to the camp and stood gazing at the whitening ashes of their fire, "the simple life is a state of mind. I'm in it, now. And—do you know, Ellis, that—I—I could learn to like it?"
Ellis prodded the back-log, and tossed on some dry sticks.
"Great Heaven!" breathed Jones, "did you ever see such eyes, Ellis?"
"The grey ones? They're very noticeable——"
"I meant—well, let it go at that. Here be two of us have lost a thousand shillings to-day."
"And the ladies were not in buckram," rejoined Ellis, starting a blaze. "Jones, can you prepare trout for the pan with the aid of a knife? Here, rub salt in 'em—and leave all but two in that big tin—dry, mind, then cover it and sink it in the spring, or something furry will come nosing and clawing at it. I'll have things ready by the time you're back."
"About our canoes," began Jones. "I've daubed mine with white lead, but I cut it up badly. Hadn't we better attend to them before the storm breaks?"
"Get yours into camp. I'll fetch mine; it's cached just below the forks. This storm may tear things."