fire.

Though she was the guest, she assumed the duty of hostess, watching
their plates and keeping them filled. This was the first amenity she
had shown them. They were perplexed to reconcile it with her scornful
air.

Only once did she relax. Big Jack, jumping up to put a stick on the
fire, did not mark where he set his plate. On his return he stepped in
it. The others saw what was coming, and their laughter was ready.

Above the masculine guffaws rang a girlish peal like shaken bells.
They looked at her, surprised and delighted. More than anything, the
laughter humanized her. She hastily drew the mask over her face again,
but they did not soon forget the sound of her laughter.

Big Jack kept control of the bottle, and doled it out with strict
impartiality. Under the spur of the fiery spirit, their ardour and
their joviality mounted together.

Sam was not offered the bottle. Sam was likewise tacitly excluded from
the contest for the girl's favour. It did not occur to any of the four
to be jealous of little Sam. He accepted the situation with
equanimity. He had no desire to rival them. His feeling was that if
that was the kind she wanted, there was nothing in it for him.

Like all primitive meals, it was over in a few minutes. Sam gathered
up the dishes, while the other men filled their pipes and befogged the
atmosphere with a fragrant cloud of smoke. Like all adventurers, they
insisted on good tobacco.

The rapidly diminishing bottle was circulated from hand to hand, the
hilarity sensibly increasing with each passage. Their enforced
abstention of late made them more than usually susceptible. Their
faces were flushed, and their eyes began to be a little bloodshot.
They continually forgot that the girl could not speak English, and
their facetious remarks to each other were in reality for her benefit.
A rough respect for her still kept them within bounds.

Bela, as a matter of course, set to work on the hearth to help Sam
clean up. This displeased Joe.

"Ah, let him do his work!" he cried. "You come here, and I'll sing to
you."

His partners howled in derision. "Sing!" cried Husky. "You ain't got
no more voice than a bull-bat!"

Joe turned on him furiously. "Well, at that, I ain't no fat,
red-headed lobster!" he cried.

A violent wrangle resulted, into which Shand was presently drawn,
making it a three-cornered affair. Big Jack, commanding them to be
silent, made more noise than any. Pandemonium filled th