Supper in Camp
Here’s to the cup that we drain to the end,
Even women have to be plucky, don’t they, Marion?
And here’s to the hearts that it brings us!”
Whispering Smith rose before the applause subsided. “I ask you to drink this, standing, in condensed milk.”
“Have we enough to stand in?” interposed Dicksie.
“If we stand together in trouble, that ought to be enough,” observed McCloud.
“We’re doing that without rising, aren’t we?” asked Marion. “If we hadn’t been in trouble we shouldn’t have ventured to this camp to-night.”
“And if you had not put me to the trouble of following you—and it was a lot of trouble!—I shouldn’t have been in camp to-night,” said Whispering Smith.
“And if I had not been in trouble this camp wouldn’t have been here to-night,” declared McCloud. “What have we to thank for it all but trouble?”
A voice called the superintendent’s name through the tent door. “Mr. McCloud?”
“And there is more trouble,” added McCloud. “What is it, Bill?”
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