in this world or the next," Paul answered.

"There is only one Judge." The packer smiled a beautiful quiet smile that
covered a world of meanings. "What a man re'ly wants, if he'd own up it,
is a leetle shade of partiality. Maybe that's what we're all going to
need, before we git through."

Paul was glad to be saved the necessity of speech, and he felt the swift
discernment with which the packer resumed his usual manner. "Got any more
of that stuff you call soup? Divide even! I won't be made no baby of."

"We might as well finish it up. It's hardly worth making two bites of a
cherry."

"Call this 'cherry'! It's been a good while on the bough. What's it mostly
made of?"

"Rind of bacon, snow water,--plenty of water,--and a tablespoonful of
rice."

"Good work! Hungry folks can live on what the full bellies throw away."

"Oh, I can save. But there comes a time when you can't live by saving what
you haven't got."

"That's right! Well, let's talk, then, before the bacon-rind fades out of
us."

The packer's face and voice, his whole manner, showed the joy of a soul
that has found relief. Paul was not trying now to behave dutifully; they