dless
array.

The lard bucket is to the prospector what baling wire is to the
freighter on the plains, and Bruce, from long experience, knew its
every use. A lard bucket was his coffee-pot, his stewing kettle, his
sour-dough can. He made mulligan in one lard bucket and boiled beans in
another. The outside cover made a good soap dish, and the inside cover
answered well enough for a mirror when he shaved.

He wrung out his dishcloth now and hung it on a nail, then eyed the bed
in the end of the cabin disapprovingly.

"That's a tough-looking bunk for white men to sleep in! Wonder how
'twould seem if 'twas made?"

While he shook and straightened the blankets, and smote the bear-grass
pillows with his fists, he told himself that he would cut some fresh
pine boughs to soften it a little as soon as the weather cleared.

"I'm a tidy little housewife," he said sardonically as he tucked away
the blankets at the edge. "I've had enough inside work to do since I
took in a star boarder to be first-class help around some lady's home."
A dead tree crashed outside. "Wow! Listen to that wind! Sounds like a
bunch of squaws wailing; maybe it's a war party lost in the Nez Perce
Spirit Land. Wish Slim would come." He walked to the door and listened,
but he could hear nothing save the howling of the wind.

He was poking aimlessly at the bread dough with his finger, wondering if
it ever meant to rise, wondering if his partner would come home in a
better humor, wondering if he should tell him about the salt, when Slim
burst in with a swirl of snow and wind which extinguished the tiny lamp.
In the glimpse Bruce had of his face he saw that it was scowling and
ugly.

Slim placed his rifle on the deer-horn gun rack without speaking and
stamped the mud and snow from his feet in the middle of the freshly
swept floor.

"I was kind of worried about you," Bruce said, endeavoring to speak
naturally. "I'm glad you got in."

"Don't know what you'd worry about me for," was the snarling answer.
"I'm as well able to take care of myself as you are."

"It's a bad night for anybody to be roaming around the hills." Bruce was
adjusting the lamp chimney and putting it back on the shelf, but he
noticed that Slim's face was working as it did in his rages, and he
sighed; they were in for another row.

"You think you're so almighty wise; I don't need _you_ to tell me when
it's fit to be out."

Bruce did not answer, but his black eyes began to shine. Sli