Tom abandoned his purpose, and with the resignation of a martyr returned to teeter upon the edge of his bunk. He remained there, glum, malevolent, watchful, until his cabin-mate had leisurely cleared the table, washed and put away his dishes; then with a sigh of fat repletion, unmistakably intended as a provocation, the tormentor lit his pipe and stretched himself luxuriously upon his bed. Even then Tom made no move. He merely glowered at the recumbent figure. Jerry blew a cloud of smoke, then waved a generous gesture. "Now then, fly at it, Mr. Linton," he said, sweetly. "I've et my fill; I've had an ample sufficiency; I'm through and in for the night." "Oh no, you ain't! You get up and wash that skillet." Mr. Quirk started guiltily. "Hustle your creaking joints and scrub it out." "Pshaw! I only fried a slice--" "Scrub it!" Linton ordered. This command Jerry obeyed, although it necessitated heating more water, a procedure which, of course, he maliciously prolonged. "Waited till I was all spread out, didn't you," he sneered, as he stooped over the wood-box. "That's like you. Some people are so small-calibered they'd rattle around in a gnat's bladder like a mustard seed in a bass drum." "I'm particular who I eat after," Tom said, "so be sure you scrub it clean." "Thought you'd spoil my smoke. Well, I can smoke standin' on my head and enjoy it." There was a silence, broken only by the sound of Jerry's labors. At last he spoke: "Once again I repeat what I told you yesterday. I took the words out of your own mouth. You said the woman was a hellion--" "I never did. Even if I had I wouldn't allow a comparative stranger to apply such an epithet to a member of my family." "You did say it. And she ain't a member of your family." Tom's jaws snapped. "If patience is a virtue," he declared, in quivering anger, "I'll slide into heaven on skids. Assassination ought not to be a crime; it's warranted, like abating a nuisance; it ain't even a misdemeanor--sometimes. She was a noble woman--" "Hellion! I got it on the authority of her own husband--you!" Tom rose and stamped over to the stove; he slammed its door and clattered the coffee-pot to drown this hateful persistence. Having had the last word, as usual, Jerry retreated in satisfaction to his bed and stretched his aching frame upon it. The dingy cabin was fragrant with the odor of cooking food for a second time that evening when the sound of voices and a knock at the door brought both old men to their feet. Before they could answer, the door flew open and in and out of the frosty evening came Rouletta Kirby and 'Poleon Doret. The girl's cheeks were rosy, her eyes were sparkling; she warmly greeted first one partner, then the other. Pausing, she sniffed the air hungrily. "Goody!" she cried. "We're just in time. And we're as hungry as bears."