five. "Time we made a start, Shorty. You and--" Here he glanced
interrogatively at Kit. "I didn't quite catch your name last
evening."

"Smoke."

"Well, Shorty, you and Mr Smoke had better begin loading the boat."

"Plain Smoke--cut out the Mister," Kit suggested.

Sprague nodded curtly and strolled away among the tents, to be
followed by Doctor Stine, a slender, pallid young man.

Shorty looked significantly at his companion.

"Over a ton and a half of outfit, and they won't lend a hand.
You'll see."

"I guess it's because we're paid to do the work," Kit answered
cheerfully, "and we might as well buck in."

To move three thousand pounds on the shoulders a hundred yards was
no slight task, and to do it in half a gale, slushing through the
snow in heavy rubber boots, was exhausting. In addition, there was
the taking down of the tent and the packing of small camp equipage.
Then came the loading. As the boat settled, it had to be shoved
farther and farther out, increasing the distance they had to wade.
By two o'clock it had all been accomplished, and Kit, despite his
two breakfasts, was weak with the faintness of hunger. His knees
were shaking under him. Shorty, in similar predicament, foraged