"What's the use?"

"To find out what we need, of course."

"But we don't need anything. We've tobacco for our pipes and quinine
for our stomachs and fuller's earth for our feet. What more can a
man need?" As he spoke, Carew hooked his toe around a second chair,
drew it towards him and promptly converted it into a foot-rest.
"Besides," he added tranquilly; "to-morrow is Boxing Day, and the
bank won't be open until the day after. You know you can't buy
anything more than a pink-bordered handkerchief out of your present
supplies."

Weldon laughed.

"Don't be too sure I can make out even that," he said, as he dived
into the trunk and pulled out a Klondyke sleeping-bag.

Carew watched him from between half-closed lids.

"Going beddy?" he inquired.

"Confound it, no! I thought my calling kit was in there." A pair of
dark gray blankets landed in the corner on top of the sleeping-bag.

"That looks jolly comfortable. You'd better bunk in there, and leave
the bed to me," Carew advised him. "You're in the wrong trunk for
your calling clothes, anyway. What under heaven do you want of them,
Weldon?"