"I didn't think you was the man to forget it," said Bill Rice as he accepted it and spilled some coffee into the water it contained. "By the way, Bill, ol' Turk's got a letter for you from Hurley."
Steele read the few words by the fading light, stood for a moment regarding them thoughtfully, then tossed the paper to the flames.
"Judging by the finger and thumb marks on it," he said evenly, "I hardly suppose it's necessary to tell you what he says? Fry out some bacon, Bill, and Turk and I will have the fish ready to go into the hot grease. Fresh trout in bacon grease, washed down with good black coffee … you can't beat it, eh, boys?"
"Goin' to do like Hurley says, Bill?" asked Rice, busy with the coals.
"I'll be tickled to pieces to see him. Tell him I'll run in and swap talk with him just as soon as I finish my vacation."
"How long did you say that was?"
Steele laughed.
"Can't tell, Bill. When a man is just back in the woods after a long spell in town he doesn't know any more than the man in the moon just how long it will be before he wants to break out of them. A week, or a couple of weeks, I'd say."
Turk, employing his big knife at fish cleaning, looked up briefly.
"Let's eat an' talk business afterwards," he suggested.
