Let
me give her a good name."
"What name, for instance?" demanded Harden.
Jonas cleared his throat. "I was thinking of the Na-che."
"My word!" exclaimed Harden. "Say, Ag, would you want our boat renamed
the Na-che?"
"Who'd repaint the name?" asked Agnew carefully. "That's the point
with me."
"The trouble with you, Ag," said Harden, "is that you haven't any soul."
"I'd do the painting," Jonas went on eagerly. "I was thinking of
getting her all fixed up with that can of paint I see to-day. Red
paint, it was."
"Do you think that Na-che would mind our making free with her name?"
Milton's tone was serious.
"Mind!" cried Jonas. "Well, if you knew women like I do you'd never
ask a question like that! A woman would rather have a boat or a race
horse named after her any time than have a baby named for her. I know
women!"
"In that case, let's rename the Mary," said Milton. "Everybody ready
to turn in?"
"I am, sir," replied Harden. "Jonas, you turn off the lights and put
the cat down cellar. Good night, everybody!"
Jonas chuckled and hobbled off to his blankets. It was not seven
o'clock when the rude camp was silent and every soul in it in profound
slumber.
Enoch was stiff and muscle-sore in the morning but he ate breakfast
with a ravenous appetite and with a keen interest in the day's program.
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