east, trusting to find a faint glow that would betoken the coming of the sun.
“Ye needn’t spend time staring for clear weather,” snapped Abner, whose temper was a bit out of joint as he prepared a meager breakfast. “Ye ought to know by this time that when the clouds hang as low and heavy as they do now that it’ll keep it up all day.”
“He hasn’t been out in a rain storm before,” reminded Bub. “The only rain we’ve had was the night we slept warm and tight up on Hood.
“Will ye keep shut?” groaned Abner. “What ye want to bring up them memories fer? I’m trying to keep my mind off’n it. I vum! but I’d like to be sticking my legs under that table now. Real coffee with condensed milk and some of Miss Laura’s cakes and maple syrup.”
“She makes the best buttered toast I ever ate,” sighed Stanley.
“Let her and her toast alone,” harshly commanded Abner. “Want to drive me crazy? The idee of talking about toast when we’ve got to set down to soggy bread and cold victuals and no coffee. Prob’ly she’ll be having some of them hot rolls this morning. Never see a timber cruiser yet but what was a fool, else he wouldn’t be prying ’round in the
