"Oh to hell with Paddy, let's have another drink!" broke in Isaac Brown.
"Right O!" chimed in Ahlers, reaching for the whiskey.
"Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay!" began Hughes again. He attempted a passeul on his long thin legs that landed him in a heap on the floor.
"Look here!" cried Cameron, standing over him and shaking a fist in his face, "Look here, if you're too bloody drunk to see, I ain't. I saw Higgins and that damned London chap go into Paddy's just after you came up to my humpy."
"Well, what of it?" Hughes looked owlishly up at the big, black-bearded man standing over him.
"That chap's got to windward of us and he's gone and put Paddy on to going out to Buchanan first."
Hughes sprang to his feet.
"Sh! he's turned in long ago," exclaimed Ahlers, "I seed him ven I vent to the missus for the key to get some more vhiskey."
"And old Higgins?"
"He vas turn in too—I see him."
"Well, then, what's the row?" cried Hughes. "If those two's asleep and Paddy ain't gone yet, we're all right."
"But we shan't be in the morning unless someone starts pretty quick."
"Well, who's to go? By God, I'm too drunk to sit a horse," whimpered Hughes.
"Wouldn't make much difference if you were sober," jeered Brown. When Hughes rode out of camp on a horse, the animal generally came back alone. So did Hughes.
Hughes didn't like the joke. He glared at Isaac with his little beady eyes, hesitating whether to go for him or not. "I believe you know something about this business," he muttered.
