ed agape. "Well, by cripes!" He hesitated, looking about
him; but whether his search was for more pie or for moral support he
did not say. Truth to tell, there was plenty of both. He reached for
another pie and another knife, and he grinned his wide grin at Irish,
who had just come up. "Dutchy's trying to run a whizzer," he remarked,
cutting a defiant gash clean across the second pie. "What do yuh know
about that?"

"He's often took that way," said Irish soothingly. "You don't want all
that pie--give me about half of it."

Big Medicine, his mouth too full for coherent utterance, waved his
hand and his knife toward the shelf at the back of the mess-wagon
where three more pies sat steaming in the shade. "Help yourself," he
invited juicily when he could speak.

Those familiar with camp life in the summer have perhaps observed the
miraculous manner in which a million or so "yellow-jackets" will come
swarming around when one opens a can of fruit or uncovers the sugar
jar. It was like that. Irish helped himself without any hesitation
whatever, and he had not taken a mouthful before Happy Jack, Weary and
Pink were buzzing around for all the world like the "yellow-jackets"
mentioned before. Patsy buzzed also, but no one paid the slightest
attention until the last mouthful of the last pie was placed in
retirement where it would be most appreciated. Then Weary became aware
of Patsy and his wrath, and turned to him pacifically.

"Oh, yuh don't want to worry none about the pie," he smiled winningly
at him. "Mamma! How do you expect to keep pies around this camp when
yuh go right on making such good ones? Yuh hadn't ought to be such a
crackajack of a cook, Patsy, if you don't want folks to eat themselves
sick."

If any man among them could have soothed Patsy, Weary would certainly
have been the man; for next to Chip he was Patsy's favorite. To say
that he failed is only one way of making plain how great was Patsy's
indignation.

"Aw, yuh made 'em to be eat, didn't yuh?" argued Happy Jack. "What
difference does it make whether we eat 'em now or two hours from now?"

Patsy tried to tell them the difference. He called his hands and his
head to help his rage-tangled tongue and he managed to make himself
very well understood. They did not argue the fine point of gastronomic
ethics which he raised, though they felt that his position was not
unassailable and his ultimate victory not assured.

Instead, they peered into boxes and c