could not sleep before midnight. These evening
hours were the hardest of all to put in.

Big Jack Skinner, the oldest and most philosophic of the party--a
lean, sandy-haired giant--sat in a rocking chair he had contrived from
a barrel and stared into the fire with a sullen composure.

Husky Marr and Black Shand Fraser were playing pinocle at the table,
bickering over the game like a pair of ill-conditioned schoolboys.

On the bed sprawled young Joe Hagland, listlessly turning the pages of
the exhausted magazine. The only contented figure was that of Sam
Gladding, the cook, a boyish figure sleeping peacefully on the floor
in the corner. He had to get up early.

It was a typical Northern interior: log walls with caked mud in the
interstices, a floor of split poles, and roof of poles thatched with
sods. Extensive repairs had been required to make it habitable.

The door was in the south wall, and you had to walk around the house
to reach the lake shore. There was a little crooked window beside it,
and another in the easterly wall. Opposite the door was a great
fire-place made out of the round stones from the lake shore.

Of furniture, besides Jack's chair, there was only what they had found
in the shack, a rough, home-made bed and a table. Two shared the bed,
and the rest lay on the floor. They had some boxes for seats.

Something more than discontent ailed the four waking men. Deep in each
pair of guarded eyes lurked a strange uneasiness. They were prone to
start at mournful, unexpected sounds from the pine-tops, and to glance
apprehensively toward the darker corners. Each man was carefully
hiding these evidences of perturbation from his mates.

The game of pinocle was frequently halted for recriminations.

"You never give me credit for my royal," said Shand.

"I did."

"You didn't."

Husky snatched up the pencil in a passion. "Hell, I'll give it to you
again!" he cried.

"That's a poor bluff!" sneered Shand.

Big Jack suddenly bestirred himself. "For God's sake, cut it out!" he
snarled. "You hurt my ears! What in Sam Hill's the use of scrapping
over a game for fun?"

"That's what I say," said Shand. "A man that'll cheat for nothing
ain't worth the powder and shot to blow him to hell!"

"Ah-h! What's the matter with you?" retorted Husky. "I only made a
mistake scoring. Anybody's liable to make a mistake. If it was a real
game I'd be more careful like."

"You're dead right you would," said Black Shand