"You look like a goat, Forr," said Harden, sympathetically, as he set a
folding table close to the spot where Jonas was kindling a fire.
"I'd rather look like a goat than a jack-ass," returned Forrester with
an edge to his voice.
"Forr," said Milton, "don't you want to try your luck at some fish for
supper? The salmon ought to be interested in a spot like this."
Forrester's voice cleared at once. "Sure! I'd be glad to," he said,
and went off to unload his fishing tackle. When he was out of hearing,
Milton said sharply to Harden:
"Why can't you let him alone, Hard! You know how touchy he is when
anything's the matter with him."
"I'm sorry," replied Harden shortly.
Enoch glanced with interest from one man to the other, but said
nothing, not even when, Milton's back being turned, Harden winked at
him. And when Forrester returned with a four-pound river salmon, there
was no sign of irritation in his face or manner.
This night, for the first time, they sat around the fire, luxuriating
in the thought that for the next twenty-four hours they were free of
the terrible demands of the river. Forrester possessed a good tenor
voice and sang, Jonas joining with his mellow baritone. Harden, lying
close to the flames, read a chapter from "David Harum," the one book of
the expedition.
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