"Shorty, dig out my clothes-bag and make a fire," the other
commanded.

"You'll do nothing of the sort," Sprague cried.

Shorty looked from one to the other, expectorated, but did not move.

"He's working for me, and I guess he obeys my orders," Stine
retorted. "Shorty, take that bag ashore."

Shorty obeyed, and Sprague shivered in the boat. Kit, having
received no orders, remained inactive, glad of the rest.

"A boat divided against itself won't float," he soliloquized.

"What's that?" Sprague snarled at him.

"Talking to myself--habit of mine," he answered.

His employer favoured him with a hard look, and sulked several
minutes longer. Then he surrendered.

"Get out my bag, Smoke," he ordered, "and lend a hand with that
fire. We won't get off till the morning now."



II.