Dad lowered his voice to a whisper and imparted to Lucky Jim the information necessary to a recognition of Easy Money bar.
While this was taking place Chenoa Pete cursed softly and fluently. He did not catch a word of the directions. He tiptoed away, still cursing.
For some moments after Dad concluded Lucky Jim made no comment, just sat there smiling to himself.
"Have I made it plain enough to yuh?" Dad inquired.
Lucky Jim started.
"As plain as day!" he rejoined. "Bein' the luckiest guy that ever was born, I could go up the river blindfold and find it. I'll hit the trail day after tomorrow sometime. How are you fixed for grub till I get back?"
"I'll manage! I'll manage!" Dad hastily exclaimed.
Lucky Jim threw a hurried glance around the cabin. The only thing his eye encountered in the line of food was half a sack of flour.
"I'll tell you why I asked," he said. "I've got three hundred pounds of good grub down in my shack that the dogs can't possibly haul, and if I leave it behind you know what the squirrels will do to it. Wish you'd let me haul it over here."
"I—I ain't got much room," Dad lied. "Yuh see——"