reason whatever, to accept these animadversions and apologize.

"It's a rain that's soft and mellowin'," said Uncle Billy gently,
"and supplin' to the sinews and muscles. Did ye ever notice,
Jim"--ostentatiously to his partner--"did ye ever notice that you get
inter a kind o' sweaty lather workin' in it? Sorter openin' to the
pores!"

"Fetches 'em every time," said Uncle Billy. "Better nor fancy soap."

Their guest laughed bitterly. "Well, I'm going to leave it to you. I
reckon to cut the whole concern to-morrow, and 'lite' out for something
new. It can't be worse than this."

The two partners looked grieved, albeit they were accustomed to these
outbursts. Everybody who thought of going away from Cedar Camp used it
first as a threat to these patient men, after the fashion of runaway
nephews, or made an exemplary scene of their going.

"Better think twice afore ye go," said Uncle Billy.

"I've seen worse weather afore ye came," said Uncle Jim slowly. "Water
all over the Bar; the mud so deep ye couldn't get to Angel's for a
sack o' flour, and we had to grub on pine nuts and jackass-rabbits. And
yet--we stuck by the camp, and here we are!"

The mild answer apparently goaded their guest to fury. He rose from his
seat, threw back his long dripping hair from his handsome but querulous
face, and scattered a few drops on the partners. "Yes, that's just it.
That's what gets me! Here you stick, and here you are! And here you'll