ubbing the cabins and washing
clothes. One squad brought in many loads of spruce-boughs, and every
stove was used for the brewing of spruce-tea.

But no matter what face Smoke and Shorty put on it, the situation was
grim and serious. At least thirty fearful and impossible cases could not
be taken from the beds, as the two men, with nausea and horror, learned;
while one, a woman, died in Laura Sibley's cabin. Yet strong measures
were necessary.

"I don't like to wallop a sick man," Shorty explained, his fist doubled
menacingly. "But I'd wallop his block off if it'd make him well. And
what all you lazy bums needs is a wallopin'. Come on! Out of that an'
into them duds of yourn, double quick, or I'll sure muss up the front of
your face."

All the gangs groaned, and sighed, and wept, the tears streaming and
freezing down their cheeks as they toiled; and it was patent that their
agony was real. The situation was desperate, and Smoke's prescription
was heroic.

When the work-gangs came in at noon, they found decently cooked dinners
awaiting them, prepared by the weaker members of their cabins under the
tutelage and drive of Smoke and Shorty.

"That'll do," Smoke said at three in the afternoon. "Knock off. Go to
your bunks. You may be feeling rotten now, but you'll be the better for
it to-morrow. Of course it hurts to get well, but I'm going to get you
well."

"Too late," Amos Wentworth sneered pallidly at Smoke's efforts. "They
ought to have started in that way last fall."

"Come along with me," Smoke answered. "Pick up those two pails. You're
not ailing."

From cabin to cabin the three men went, dosing every man and woman with
a full pint of spruce-tea. Nor was it easy.

"You might as well learn at the start that we mean business," Smoke
stated to the first obdurate, who lay on his back, groaning through
set teeth. "Stand by, Shorty." Smoke caught the patient by the nose and
tapped the solar-plexus section so as to make the mouth gasp open. "Now,
Shorty! Down she goes!"

And down it went, accompanied with unavoidable splutterings and
stranglings.

"Next time you'll take it easier," Smoke assured the victim, reaching
for the nose of the man in the adjoining bunk.

"I'd sooner take castor oil," was Shorty's private confidence, ere he
downed his own portion. "Great jumpin' Methuselem!" was his entirely
public proclamation the moment after he had swallowed the bitter dose.
"It's a pint long, but hogshead strong.