Carrots shuffled the cards, picked out the joker, and flipped it pensively into the fire. Then he dealt cold decks all around.
When the goods and chattels of their late companion had been divided by chance—for there was no chance to cheat—somebody remembered Tully.
"He's down there on the coast, starin' after the canoe," said Bates huskily.
He rose and walked toward a heap on the ground covered by a blanket. He started to lift the blanket, hesitated, and finally turned away. Under the blanket lay Tully's brother, shot the night before by Kent.
"Guess we'd better wait till Tully comes," said Carrots uneasily. Bates and Kent had been campmates. An hour later Tully walked into camp.
He spoke to no one that day. In the morning Bates found him down on the coast digging, and said: "Hello, Tully! Guess we ain't much hell on lynchin'!"
"Naw," said Tully. "Git a spade."
"Goin' to plant him there?"
"Yep."
"Where he kin hear them waves?"