"
Enoch had been eying Milton closely. "Look here, Milton, I believe
you're running a good deal of temperature. Why don't you lie down and
rest both mind and body until supper's ready? After you've eaten,
we'll make the final decisions."
"I don't want any food," replied Milton, dropping back on his blankets,
nevertheless.
"The beans is done but you only get a handful of them in the stew,
to-night," said Jonas, firmly. "I'm cooking all the meat, 'cause it
won't keep, but you only get half of that now."
Agnew groaned. "Well, there doesn't seem much to look forward to.
Let's finish that game of poker, Forr. Take a hand, Judge and Hard?"
"No, thanks," replied Enoch. "I'll just rest my old bones right here."
"I'll help you out, if Forr won't pick on me." Harden glanced at
Milton, but the freckled face gave no sign that Harden's remark had
been heeded.
Enoch quietly took the injured man's pulse. It was rapid and weak.
Enoch shook his head, laid the sturdy hand down and gave his attention
to his pipe and the card game. It was not long before an altercation
between Forrester and Harden began. Several times Agnew interfered but
finally Forrester sprang to his feet with an oath.
"No man on earth can call me that!" shouted Harden, "Take it back and
apologize, you rotter!"
"A rotter, am I?" sneered Forrester.
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