Batters was consoled by this boyish sympathy. He wiped his eyes and looked gratefully at Ned.
"Here, take this," said Nugget, holding out a handsome pocket knife. "It's got four blades, and a corkscrew, and a file."
Batters looked doubtfully at the treasure. Randy had just lighted a lantern, and the rays flashed on the mother of pearl handle.
"I want you to have it," said Nugget, "my father will send me plenty more from New York."
The temptation was too much. Batters took the knife with a smile, and incoherently tried to thank the donor.
All at once the creaking of oars was heard, and a moment later Joe joined the party.
"They've gone," he announced. "T' other fellow got tired pickin' the salt out. Bug tole him he ought to be glad cause now he was well seasoned. Then the fellow jabbed at Bug with a knife. Missed him though."
"Well, I'm 'glad the affair is over," said Ned. "We'll be able to get some sleep now. Batters, suppose you and Joe come in our tent? There is room enough."
Batters hesitated and gave an awkward hitch to his trousers.
"I reckon you'd better not do any more sleepin' here," he said uneasily. "Bug pulled me aside, and said I should tell you-uns to light out afore daybreak, 'cause the other fellar will surely come back an' lay fur the chap what shot him. I dunno where Bug picked him up, or who he is. He looks like a tramp, with his dirty beard and wicked eyes. H's a mighty bad man when he gits riled, Bug says. It's a pity that chap shot him, 'cause they were both running away."