"You don't look it," I said.

"Oh, when daylight came I had a chance," she added, laughing.

"All the same," said I, leaning on the axe and watching her, "you are
about the coolest and pluckiest woman I ever knew."

"We were all in the same fix," she said, modestly.

"No, we were not. Now I'll tell you the truth--my hair stood up the
greater part of the night. You are looking upon a poltroon, Miss
Barrison."

"Then there was something at your window, too?"

"Something? A dozen! They were monkeying with the sashes and panes all
night long, and I imagined that I could hear them breathing--as though
from effort of intense eagerness. Ouch! I came as near losing my nerve
as I care to. I came within an ace of hurling those cursed pies
through the window at them. I'd bolt to-day if I wasn't afraid to play
the coward."

"Most people are brave for that reason," she said.

The dog, who had slept under my bunk, and who had contributed to my
entertainment by sighing and moaning all night, now appeared ready for
business--business in his case being the operation of feeding. I
presented him with a concentrated tablet, which he cautiously
investigated and then rolled on.

"Nice testimonial for the people who concocted it," I said, in
disgust. "I wish I had an egg."