out in the clothes In which they had slept, dishevelled and grumbling.
They breakfasted by lamplight, seated on benches on either side of the long table improvised from boards and cross-pieces of two-by-fours. There was no tablecloth and the dishes were of agate-ware as formerly. Kate ate hurriedly and in silence, but the usual airy persiflage went on between Bowers and the herders.
"It near froze ice this mornin'," Bowers observed by way of making conversation. "I was so cold that I had to shiver myself into a pressperation before I could get breakfast."
"I slept chilly all night," said Bunch, and added, looking askance at his erstwhile bed-fellow, "They ain't no more heat in Oleson than a rattler."
"Looks like you'd steal yurself a blanket somewhur," Bowers commented.
"I wouldn't a slept the fore part of last night anyhow," Bunch said pointedly.
"I hope I didn't keep you awake with my singin'?" Bowers's voice expressed a world of solicitude.
"Was that you makin' that comical noise?" Bunch elevated his brows in astonishment. "I thought one of the horses was down, and chokin'."
Bowers slammed a pyramid of pancakes upon the table.
"Why don't you take a shovel. Bunch?" he demanded. "You're losin' time eatin' with your knife and fingers."
"These sweat-pads of yourn would be pretty fair if twant fur the lumps of sody a feller's allus bitin' into," the herder commented.
"Maybe you'd ruther do the cookin' so you kin git em to suit you," Bowers retorted, nettled.
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