"Your inexperience is something appalling, for a man that has fried his own bacon and swabbed out his own frying-pan as many times as you have.

Better go bring 'em in.

It was thinking about snowing again when I come." Billy grinned a little and went after his bedding, brought it and threw it with a fine disregard for order upon the accumulation of boxes and benches in the bunk.

"I'll go feed the hosses, and then I'll cook yuh some supper," he told the foreman still humped comfortably before the stove with his fur coat thrown open to the heat and his spurred boots hoisted upon the hearth.

"Better make up your mind to stay till morning; it's getting mighty chilly, outside." The foreman, at the critical stage of cigarette lighting, grunted unintelligibly.