"If only we had raw potatoes," Smoke went on. "The vital, essential something is missing from that prepared stuff. The life has been evaporated out of it."
"An' if that young fellow Jones in the Brownlow cabin don't croak before morning I miss my guess."
"For Heaven's sake be cheerful," Smoke chided.
"We got to bury him, ain't we?" came the indignant snort. "I tell you that boy's something awful--"
"Shut up," Smoke said.
And after several more indignant snorts, the heavy breathing of sleep arose from Shorty's bunk.
In the morning, not only was Jones dead, but one of the stronger men who had worked on the firewood squad was found to have hanged himself. A nightmare procession of days set in. For a week, steeling himself to the task, Smoke enforced the exercise and the spruce-tea. And
