Cabin Fever In The Worst Form

Nor did its presence there trouble him in the least. Just this morning,
however, the fact of Cash's stubbornness in keeping to his own side
of the line irritated Bud. He wanted to get back at the old hound
somehow--without giving in an inch in the mute deadlock. Furthermore,
he was hungry, and he did not propose to lie there and starve while old
Cash pottered around the stove. He'd tell the world he was going to
have his own breakfast first, and if Cash didn't want to set in on the
cooking, Cash could lie in bed till he was paralyzed, and be darned.

At that moment Cash pushed back the blankets that had been banked to his
ears. Simultaneously, Bud swung his feet to the cold floor with a thump
designed solely to inform Cash that Bud was getting up. Cash turned
over with his back to the room and pulled up the blankets. Bud grinned
maliciously and dressed as deliberately as the cold of the cabin would
let him. To be sure, there was the disadvantage of having to start his
own fire, but that disagreeable task was offset by the pleasure he would
get in messing around as long as he could, cooking his breakfast. He
even thought of frying potatoes and onions after he cooked his bacon.
Potatoes and onions fried together have a lovely tendency to stick to
the frying pan, especially if there is not too much grease, and if they
are fried very slowly. Cash would have to do some washing and scraping,
when it came his turn to cook. Bud knew just about how mad that would
make Cash, and he dwelt upon the prospect relishfully.